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justagirlsearchingforamuse · 3 years

Note

If you are still taking nsfw requests, could you please write Heisenburg having some 'alone time' with himself?

"Hmm ... yeah this will have to work ... running out of options because of that stupid man Ethan Winters. The man is nothing but trouble. ... I was a fool to consider trying to work with the clown." Karl growled in a ragged breath, his hands were pressed into his messy cluttered desk and he stood slightly hunched over his desk with his eyes staring at the revised plan he had. He stared over the plan once more, he'd have to either get rid of Ethan or let him do all his dirty work and then finish him off once more. As he slumps into his chair, a heavy sigh leaves his lips at once and he takes his old tethered hat off, he's quite surprised he hasn't lost the beloved accessory. Sitting it down on his disorganized desk with papers, photos, and crumbled pieces of paper he lets a heavy breath leave his lips and tries to let peace rest in his old factory and within his soul. The sound of machinery working actively, metals bumping into other metals and the scent of dust and metal lays heavy in the air. He liked his factory. Just the way it was. Messy. Dirty. Dusty. He loved it, it was his own little home and his place to truly be himself and truly allowed to be vulnerable without the worry of being seen as weak. As inadequate, he runs his thick fingers through his straight dark grey hair, pushing some hair out of his face as he listens to the machines, the huffing, and the metals clanking together and it reminds me of something he's tried so damn hard to forget. You.

He enjoyed and relished being alone, he was in his element, he was allowed to be vulnerable but there was that soft aching in his soul that missed your soft humming or missed hearing you enter his factory. He missed the smell of you, it was warm and so heavenly to his nostrils, when you would bother trying to clean up his cluttered mess and he would try and excuse it. Try and get you to stop. Damn, did he miss you. He sits up straight in his chair, his finger rests upon his bottom lip as he forces and pushes thoughts of you out of his head, he can't bear to think about you, he can't bear to be weak again after what you did to him. "fuck" he mutters in a swift breath as his hands cover his face, he buries his face in his hands as he finds getting rid of you is like getting rid of gnats, nearly fucking impossible. He lets out an agitated sigh, nearly growling to himself before his eyes lay heavy on his desk, still cluttered and messy once again he decides to at least get rid of some of his failed plans. As he begins to grab at a few crumpled up paper balls, he suddenly stops and another sigh leaves his lips, he stops as rushed words leave his lips. "what the fuck am I doing?" he mutters as he began to try and put things back where they were, his hands moved too quickly and suddenly a photo falls onto the floor. It's a polaroid, he twists in his chair and picks up the photo and his eyes harden at the sight of what he tries and tried so desperately to forget. To leave behind. His eyes meet the sight of your face, you took what Americans call a "selfie", a short yet soft chuckle leaves his lips at your weird slang and your way with words was so unique. You smile warmly at the camera, a natural smile suits you perfectly and the light in your eyes, the natural warmth that flushed your skin, everything about you reminded him of what he lost. The family he lost. He missed what he used to once be, human. Humans have freedom, are free to be whoever and do whatever they want but a cruel bitch with selfish intentions and a knack for kidnapping took that away from him.

His face softens at your picture, he remembers your laughter echoing through the room so beautiful and unique to his ears, how you would sit on his lap and tease him with your smile, he remembers so much about you. He remembers you. He remembers the day you left, bitterness on your tongue, sharp anger in your veins and you left with horror, with tears and with nothing but pain striking your face. He hurt you. In return you left him, you left him all alone with nothing but his so-called "family". He wants to rip up your picture, burn it and spit on the image he once treasured so dearly but all he can do is look at what memory he has of you. "Damn, you don't know how much ... how much I miss you ..." Karl whispers, a deep frown curls onto his lips and he can memorize and almost catch your voice in his ears. His throat begins to get tight and his lips try to tremble and quiver before, he buries his teeth in his tongue and inhales a sharp breath to stop himself from being too ... open. He exhales slowly and sets your picture down on the desk once more, he slumps back in his chair, and memories of you circle and float around in his head. "Come on ... forget her, she fucking left you." He mutters and murmurs to himself in a whisper, sighing once again as his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, he keeps repeating "forget her, fuck her" almost like a mantra. But it doesn't fucking work. Especially when he finds himself pitching a tent, his pants become tighter and not as loose as he prefers them to be, he lets out a little more than agitated growl from his lips at the sight. Clicking his tongue, he decides that maybe he can turn this into just another jerk-off session that is nothing more than that, he sets your picture up on a coffee cup he has and lets it sit there right in view. His tongue swirls around his lips as he unzips his pants, he slips his hand in his boxers and lets his eyes rest as he wraps his hand around his firm thick semi-hard cock. He lightly squeezes at the organ, causing him to let out a swift breath at the sensation before leaning back just slightly more, grinding his teeth into his bottom lip he begins to gradually move his hand up and down his cock. "Damn ... kinda sensitive, huh?" Karl says in a slow ragged breath, his voice rumbles, and echoes through the factory.

He wants to rush into it, he wants to imagine you with your tongue down his throat, hands exploring his body and he could imagine your chuckles after he rips off your clothes. "Fuck ..." Karl whispers, his eyebrows furrow at images of you that flash in his mind, the things he's done to you, the sheer pleasure that he's given you has him squeezing his fully erect cock. His fingers travel to the head of his cock, he squeezes at the sensitive area causing a ragged deep growl to leave his parted lips, pleasure pulsates through him and leaves him almost like putty in his hand. He swallows thickly and inhales once again, his hand begins to slowly travel up and down his thick meaty cock that pulsates, eagerly. Heavy ragged breaths leave his lips, his eyes are closed, almost like he's relaxed and at ease with his hand shoved down his pants and his mind focused on the aching problem in between his thighs. When his hand travels to the head of his cock, his thumb moves in circles around the head, slow agonizing circles that leave him almost gasping for air at the throbbing sensations that travel through him. "Damn ..." Karl groans deeply, a ragged breath soon follows as he spreads his legs wider, his hand travels up and down his throbbing hard cock, heavy ragged breaths are all that leave his lips. "Shit ... shit ..." He breaths out heavily, he whines and it fills his throat and the factory he resides in, echoing heavily through the room before a deep breath leaves his lips. "Get the fuck outta the way," Karl whispers to himself, he pushes his pants down to his ankles and his cock isn't restrained by his pants, his hand moves to his cock once again and continues to gently stroke his throbbing cock that now leaks with precum. "Gah ..." Karl gasps, burying his teeth into his bottom lip as heat begins to flood into his being, his heart throbs and pulsates in his chest, and arousal pulses through him, leaving him aching for sweet release. Hot damn ...

"Yeah, remember how you used to just worship me ... do you remember how much of a masochist you were? That look on your face though ... whenever I had you tied up and at my mercy or ... whenever you needed to be punished ... oh damn ..." Karl rambles to himself, his words are slurred and his thoughts of full of nothing but you, he remembers how you used to tease him away from his work and how good you were at making him hard in mere moments. His cock pulsates in his hand at the thought of you and he decides to kick it up a notch, his hand begins to move at a slightly quicker pace as it travels up and down his throbbing meaty cock. His cock leaks with precum that travels down the head of his cock, his thumb quickly moves against the sensitive head, rubbing and massaging that sensitive area causing sharp waves of ecstasy to rush through him. He licks his lips and a wide toothy grin curls onto his lips, a light chuckle follows soon after as short and breathless moans leave his parted lips, the heat that was once warm gets hotter and it travels throughout his body. "Yeah, you remember that. You can't forget how good my cock felt down that tight throat of yours, how you savored my seed obediently ... haah ... damn." Karl rambles once more, imagining as though you were listening to him, what follows after his words are heavy breathless moans that are pried from his lips. He uses his other hand to clutch the chair's arms as his hand eagerly strokes and massages his cock aching in between his legs. "Ah ..." Karl moans deeply, a growl at the end of that moan as he can ecstasy pulsate through him, his body throbs with arousal and aching as he selfishly takes care of himself. He was getting close.

The heat that was hot as hell was now boiling inside of him, running his hands through his hair he wraps both of his hands around his cock, eager to taste his release quicker as his face twists at the waves and waves of ecstasy that travels through him. He clenches his teeth and his eyes are closed tightly, heavy ragged raspy breaths leave his lips followed by low growls of your name that he repeated like a mantra. "Oh, fuck ...! Oh, baby ... don't you miss me? Don't you miss how I used to fuck you ... nice and hard, all night fucking long and I still have your marks on my back." He rambles in a series of heavy breaths that clouded his throat, he begins to fist his cock swift and severely as sharp powerful waves of bliss washed over him in heavy waves of heat. "Oh, fuck! Shit! Oh, shit ...!, Baby, I want you so bad ... I want you here with me ... your lips wrapped around my cock or maybe you would want to ... want to be on your back like a dog. Eager for my cock, eager to get pounded into the mattress." Karl rambles once again, a smile is curled onto his lips as he is so eager to chase after a high, eager to chase after whatever he was deluding himself into that had him believing you were there. "Oh, shit! Goddamn ...!" Karl pants out, his breaths become raspy and sound like a growl at the end of each moan that falls from his lips. His throat is tight and struggling to keep oxygen in it, heat boils within him and he's just so enamored with the thought of you and you're not even there. Clenching his teeth, he begins to drive his hips into his tight fist, his hand swiftly stroking his throbbing hard cock as he throws his head back. Waves after waves of ecstasy travel and burst through him, the ecstasy is strong, merciless, and unforgiving and he fucking loves it so much. Oh, what you do to him ...

"Shit, baby ... I'm gonna ... I'm gonna come ... gonna come so fuckin' hard. I love you ... I love you ..." Karl rambles out in heavy ragged breaths as he continues to vigorously fist his throbbing meaty cock, his breaths are caught in the middle of his throat and when it hits him his entire body disobeys him. His body jerks, almost jumps at the tides of bliss that flood through him and he reaches his boiling point, his stomach coils and he bites at his tongue enough to make himself bleed as thick ropes of semen land onto his shirt. "Fuck, (Y/N) ...! Oh ..." He whines deeply, his hand continues to vigorously stroke his cock, shorter ropes of cum spurt onto his shirt as he desperately tries to feel more. To see you again. He'll never admit that. Never let his mind admit because he's a stubborn bastard but there's that thought in his head, he was wondering if you would've said "I love you". He wondered if you would've just smiled at him and left him again, when he catches his breath a bitter taste hits his tongue, and memories of your time together hits him like a pile of bricks. Fuck, all he wanted was to forget you. Forget that you brought him up just to leave him when he needed you most. His eyes open and he inhales a shaky breath through his nostrils, pain weighed heavy on him and that's all he can think of. The pain. Your last words. The tears. He remembers you.

#resident evil smut #resident evil 8 #karl heisenburg #karl heisenberg x reader #re: village #smut

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

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Of beasts and men [Hybrid 2p! America x reader]

Synopsis: And to think that godforsaken animal rescue center was to blame. You were supposed to find a dog to adopt, not a creepy furry who showed up naked at your door! Turns out, his shapeshifting abilities got him in some hot water with the police. And the rescue center owner. It’s pretty self-explanatory. Wordcount: 3, 290 The reader is referred to as she/her.

“You’re fired!” A gruff voice screamed outside a diner a few blocks down. “And don't come crawling back to me when you need my help! Not again!”

The shouts caused his ears to prick up, so he turned his head to the sound and flipped the man off. Though one had to wonder if he was a man. Yes, he stood on two legs, but he was covered head to toe with shaggy brown fur, and he had the head of a bull.

“No, I quit! Nobody fires me. Your loss, baby!” He yelled, baring his canines in a wide smile. When the other fumed in response, a jet of steam shot through his nostrils to blow his gold nose ring forward. Then, they stomped their foot and kicked the dirt below. He froze. “Oh shit.”

“I'll skewer you like a kebab!” They roared, rearing their head back before lunging forward to start charging at him. A single glance of those sharp horns was enough to send him running. So he fled, dashing through the narrow marketplace while gritting his teeth. Pushing past members of the public, he never stopped knocking over random objects in his way.

Crates, baskets, and fruit stalls in his path were bulldozed, alerting nearby swordsmen in blue jackets.

“Hey, you there! Stop running!”

He could hear their paws and hooves hot on his tail, so he lowered himself onto all fours and morphed. Sprinting all the way to the edge of the city, he disappeared into an alleyway. His life was a culmination of terrible decisions, but this probably took the cake. He knew exactly where this system of alleys led to, but he never slowed down to look back.

There was nothing left for him in the beast kingdom.

Dashing out of the enclosure of walls, he rammed into a dumpster and fell to the ground with a heavy thump. “Ah, shit...” He rolled onto his back and outstretched a paw to stare at it. “Maybe it isn't too late to be adopted. Ha!” The thought made him laugh, but it came out as a high-pitched wheeze. “Who am I kidding? I'm not a damn pet.”

“Hey, is that a red Doberman?”

He widened his eyes and sprung up on all fours. Pricking his ears to the two men standing at the street outside, he shook his head in regret. Like a deer caught in the headlights, they shined their torch on him and lit up his black irises with fear.

“Wow, you're right! Look at its fur! It's got a beautiful rusted color to it!”

“I can't believe it's a stray. We should take it back to the rescue center.”

The next thing he knew, he was sitting in a small cell. A metal gate slammed shut and locked him in. A few minutes later, he was still processing everything that had happened. He just got caught by a bunch of humans. “Did I jinx myself?” Jumping up and scrambling to the gate, he pressed his snout against the wires and held it with his paws--a rather human-like action and odd sight.

“Let me out, let me out dammit!” He yelled, pulling the wires back and forth to make it rattle. “This is a beast rights violation! I demand a lawyer!” What should have been coherent sentences left his mouth as a string of violent barks.

An attendant entered the hall and smashed a baton against a pole. “Oi, settle down! Keep that up and nobody will want you!”

The dog pulled away and fell onto his behind. Then, it let out a defeated scoff. “Nobody would want me anyways. Just do yourself a favor and let me rot on the streets.”

Upon hearing those soft whines, the attendant lowered his arm and walked off. “Atta’boy. Now go take a nap or something.”

And nap he did, having given up on escaping--for now. Laying his head on the cold, hard ground, he fluttered his tired eyes to a close. The next morning when he came to, his nose twitched to an unfamiliar scent. It radiated in waves from the fingers on the other side of the gate. Human fingers.

When he glanced up, someone was crouching in front of him and holding out their hand. “What about this one, Jerry? Is he up for adoption?” They asked with a small smile decorating their lips. Sitting up excitedly at that, he wagged his tail. Anything to get out of here. I'll figure out where to go later. “Aw, I think he understands me!”

“Hm, I suppose he is. But he's got a nasty temper, that one. You might wanna rethink your choice.”

He watched the hope fade from their eyes. “Oh, seriously? That's too bad...” Then, they stood up with a sigh. His tail swished to a stop and slumped. That attendant was right in the end, after all.

“And I thought I could get scary dog privileges. Maybe I should stick with smaller sizes...”

The pair made their way down the hall to look at the other species the center housed, much to his disappointment. “Cheer up! We've got tonnes of other big dogs for you to consider. Not all of them will be fussy living in small spaces. You said you lived alone, didn't you?” His ears perked up at that.

“So long as you take them out on walks, they'll be fine.”

“Maybe. But I might have to go home and take some measurements. These dogs were a little bigger than I expected.” Soft laughs echoed, followed by a door creaking open.

“Totally understandable. You come back another day, eh?”

The door clicked shut, leaving him to his own devices. A single thought occurred to him, and it repeated in his head over and over until it drove him mad. He needed to get out of here. Before some other human set their eyes on him. But how? That question was promptly answered when a chill ran down his spine.

His fur shivered and puffed up as he slowly grew in size.

“Oh crap, I'm out of juice!” As his limbs began to stretch, so did his paws. Soon, they began to resemble fingers, and his panic reached an all-time-high when he realized he was standing on two feet again. That wouldn't have been a problem if he wasn't where he was.

He was stranded in the human world in his beast form.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Looking down to the spot between his legs, he gawked at another unwelcome discovery. Not only was he locked in a tiny cell, but he was also buck naked! It was only a matter of time before the attendant returned and found him like this. Regardless of his appearance, he was more than certain this warranted the police getting involved.

He already screwed up enough as it was. He definitely couldn't afford to get in trouble with the law in the human world too.

So he resorted to escaping by force. Taking a few steps back, he rammed into the lock. After a few attempts, he smashed through the gate and skidded to a stop. Without a shred of hesitation, he whipped his head to the door and charged right through it. Bursting into the front office, the receptionist screamed at his sudden arrival.

Then, they screamed even louder when they processed just what they were seeing. A humanoid dog.

The sheer volume of their shrieks made his ears tremble. “Oh my god, would you shut up already? I have good hearing, you know?”

Upon hearing him speak--a surefire sign he was indeed human--they reached for the phone beside them. Then, they talked frantically into the speaker, mentioning something along the lines of a naked creep in a fursuit. Now, he had no idea what that strange device was, but he was pretty sure they were alerting the authorities.

“Uh oh.”

For the second day in a row, he was chased by cops through a public sphere. That was one thing that didn't change, even if his setting certainly did. Towering buildings and skyscrapers loomed over him from all directions. Strange lights, posters, and moving pictures bombarded him with seizure-inducing colors.

Even then, he had no chance to take it all in when he was too busy fleeing. “Gah, get out of the way, get out of the way!” He barked.

Shoving through the people crowding the edges of the wide street, he stumbled right in front of a heavy-duty truck barreling at him at thirty miles an hour. He had been so determined to get away from the hoard of humans, he never realized where he wound up.

Before he could be sent flying, he gritted his teeth and jumped out of the way while it swerved into a telephone pole.

Briefly turning back to process the damage he'd done, shock filled him to the brim as he processed the scene of devastation that unfolded before him. But he couldn't linger on it for too long.

“That's the guy! Get him!”

He had to get out of here. But where was he supposed to go?

His nose twitched to a familiar scent. It was the person from this morning! And if he wasn't wrong, he recalled that they lived alone. So he followed the smell, finding himself standing outside of an apartment complex of some kind.

Setting down your things after that short and unproductive trip, you flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. Police sirens wailed in the distance, but you paid them no mind. Whoever they were chasing, the fugitive was sure to be caught soon enough. Little did you know, you were about to become their accomplice.

A few crisp knocks sounded on the other side of your front door. Without tearing your gaze from the screen, you slid on your slippers. “Coming!” You called. Slowly making your way to answer it, whoever it was that decided to bother you on this fine Sunday morning, you peeked through the peephole to see a pair of tall red ears. Dog ears.

“Huh?” Unlocking the door and creaking it open, albeit only slightly, you poked your head out in confusion. Standing there in all his glory, or its glory, was an anthropomorphic Doberman. If it weren't for these circumstances you met them under, you would have noticed they were a spitting image to the red Doberman in the rescue center. Instead, you were more compelled to fixate on other details.

When he realized where you were staring, he covered himself and grinned sheepishly.

“Uh... Happy birthday?”

The color drained from your face until you were paler than a sheet of paper. Then, you screamed.

He reflected a similar panic, and before you could shut the door in his face, he lunged forward into the frame and pried it open. “Wait, just hear me out! I'm in a bit of a tight spot here!” Given his physical advantages, he triumphed rather easily and forced himself into your home. All you could do was watch, but that didn't mean you couldn't keep screaming.

Rearing his head back as he covered his trembling ears, he shot his arms around you and clamped a hand over your mouth. “Stop screaming for God's sake! I've had it enough with the screaming today!” When you felt his fur against your lips, you only struggled and thrashed harder out of fear.

Regardless of his strength and stature, he couldn't do this all day.

So he tried morphing again. Rather than changing into the dog you saw earlier in the morning, he assumed a form closer to yours. His rusted red fur disappeared along with his tail. The long snout that pressed against your face shortened, and eventually, the arms that held you hostage were human. Or at least, they gave off that impression with his tanned, hairless skin.

You could argue that his transformation made the situation a little less bizarre. A little more manageable. So yes, you stopped moving. Now that you weren't resisting, he assumed you calmed down enough for him to let you go. What a big mistake that was.

The second you were freed, you punched him square in the jaw.

“Gh-!” An explosion of pain spread through his cheek. Turning back to you with teary eyes, he gripped the spot you took the liberty to abuse. “What the hell was that for?!” He spluttered.

“For being naked, you idiot!” You fumed through a blush.

“I thought we already moved past that!”

“We'll move past it once you put some clothes on!”

A little less bizarre? Who were you kidding? His sudden change in appearance only signaled to you he wasn't just your typical creep in a fursuit. As you mulled over the thought, a grim expression contorted at your features. Was this karma for changing your mind about that Doberman? A supernatural reckoning you so deserved for walking away? Needless to say, it was something worth discussing over some food.

“Thanks for the sweatpants, by the way! I'll return it to you later.” Kicking back in a chair, he started snacking on what he found in your pantry.

You avoided his gaze. He stood at least five inches taller than you, and he was certainly bigger than you were. And in more ways than one. “... You can keep it.”

Watching a dog munch on chocolate was not the most comfortable thing to see, either. The same could be said for his hands that picked through a candy box. “Wow, these are great! We don't have stuff like this back where I live.” He mused, throwing another chocolate-covered almond into his mouth. You tensed up.

“Wait, are you saying you've never had chocolate before?” Leaning forward and slamming your hands down on the dining table, you darted your eyes over his unreadable expression for any signs of discomfort. “I can't believe I let you eat it! Just because you can talk and everything!”

“Wha'dya mean I can talk? Of course I can talk!”

Maybe letting him rummage through your pantry was a bad idea.

He licked around his snout and huffed. “Anyway, sure I've eaten it before. Just nothing this good. What did you guys do to this, huh?” You breathed out a sigh of relief at that and sat back down. So you didn't accidentally poison your guest. Some guest he was, though. His name was strangely more down-to-earth than his otherworldly origins.

“Well, it's processed.”

“Processed, huh? I have no idea what that means.” He turned the box over and squinted at the label. “Huh? What language is this?”

“Japanese.”

His brows knitted together and he looked deep in thought. “Hm. I don't know what that is either.”

You laughed under your breath. “Duh. From what you've told me, it wouldn't be wrong to say you were born yesterday.”

“Oi, I'll have you know I was born at least a year ago!”

Allen, the runaway beast, had left his homeworld for the human one. Though chased out was the more accurate way to put it. There was nothing left for him back there, and his only hope of starting over was to take refuge in a foreign land. Perhaps not forever, but at least until he figured out where to go from here. That was what he had in mind.

“I'm not too concerned about you learning anything new. You'll be leaving soon, so.” Standing up with a content smile, you made your way to his side and patted him on the shoulder. The action prompted him to glance up at you with a full mouth. What you said next, however, would make him spit everything out. “You can't stay the night, Allen.”

He spewed almond bits all over the table, much to your disgust. “Wait, what?! I thought you were gonna let me stay! And not even just for a night, maybe for a week or two!”

You gawked in disbelief. “Are you crazy?! I'm not taking you in just because of your sob story. I'm not made of money, you know!” But that wasn't quite it, either. You were prepared to raise a dog, a big one at that, for protection purposes. The problem wasn't money.

The problem was that he wasn't human.

His ears drooped and he shot you his best puppy dog eyes he could muster. But you stayed strong. It was what he later added that jabbed at your strong resolve. “Aw, come on. Weren't you planning to adopt a dog like me? What's the difference?” Allen pouted. The sound of him reiterating exactly what was on your mind made you freeze up.

“It'll be the same as having a pet, I swear! Maybe even better--I know how to use a toilet!”

“Of course you know how to use a toilet!” You interjected, pulling away shortly to let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. “You're not a pet, Allen. You're a person, well, a dog person. You're not helpless without an owner! And what if somebody hunts me down and for keeping you here?” As much of a point you had, he didn't stop there.

Everything in his life boiled down to this moment. If he couldn't convince you to let him stay, there was no saying where he would end up. So he would do everything in his power to give you that one last push.

Standing up from his chair, he morphed into a human. Or tried with what was left of his energy. While his red ears and tail remained, there was nothing else reminiscent of the beast he was. “If you're worried about what I am, then I'll stay like this. Without the ears and tail, I mean.” His furry appendage swished at that.

“And I'll help you with house chores. I'm more capable than I look, I promise!”

You furrowed your brows and sighed for what felt like the tenth time that day. You couldn't believe it, but he was steadily chipping away at your resolve. So you turned away. “Mm, I don't know. This is a lot to ask from someone, especially if you aren't helping with the bills.”

Allen lit up, sensing your change of heart. So he jumped in front of you. “I'll do anything to make up for it!” He grinned, his energetic outburst catching you off-guard. There was something about his body language and attitude that perfectly embodied a loyal dog eager to please its owner. It was probably because of that tail of his that wagged with great gusto.

Among other things, you supposed.

“I'll be everything you need! A pet, a bodyguard, househusband, whatever you like!” Your attention was piqued at the mention of bodyguard. But when you processed the rest of his sentence, you lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Who said I needed a househusband?” You frowned.

Allen blinked. “Was that too much?” He grinned toothily. “Then how about a live-in boyfriend?”

With every shred of your willpower, you held back the urge to punch him. You already bruised him enough for today. “If you want me to consider taking you in, make me something for lunch! If it's acceptable, I might let you stay.” Shoving him into the kitchen at that, you pulled your apron off its hook and tossed it his way. “And do the dishes, too!”

“Alright, alright, jeez! Have some faith in me, won't you? I used to work in a diner, ya know?” The man swatted you gently with his tail. But you only pulled it much to his surprise.

“Used to. You probably got fired.”

Allen ignored that comment. “Watch where you touch, babe. You're moving a little too fast, even for me--Ow!”

#hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #axis powers ヘタリア #hetalia world series #2p!americaxreader #2p america #2p america x reader #x reader #beast #boy and the beast #bakemono no ko #hybrid #inu #allen jones #fantasy

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sophiashortcake · 4 years

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— 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 🍰

“I GUESS I’M JUST A PLAY DATE TO YOU.”

previous ❀ next ❀ series masterlist

𝟎𝟓. and they weren’t roommates

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: kicked out of her home with no place to go, y/n is forced to move into her family friend’s home, who coincidentally is also the family of tsukishima kei, the boy who denied her confession.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tsukishima snapped, eyes glowering into yours.

Tsukishima was standing in the doorway of your(?) room, (Or would it still be considered his brother’s room? No, not the time to be worrying about that!) He crossed his arms, and if looks could kill, you’d be six feet under.

“I-“ you began, unable to muster any words through your shock. No, no, no, this could not be happening. There was no way this was Tsukishima Kei’s house.

“God, are you that obsessed with me? Don’t you think stalking me is a little far?” He scoffed, his glare behind his glasses nearly lethal.

“I’m not stalking you!” you retorted, “I didn’t know-“

“Didn’t know?” He mocked, “stop making excuses, I’m waiting for an explanation as to why you’re in my house.”

“Gah, if you’d shut up I could explain!” you snapped. God, he was infuriating!

He quipped an eyebrow, letting you speak.

“My mother and I had to move out of our house because…”

You flinched, you were barely processing the information yourself, much less able to admit to Tsukishima Kei of all people. He had no right to know about your life, but he was waiting for an answer, and you definitely didn’t want to be perceived as a stalker.

You took a sharp inhale.

“Mydadcheatedonmymomandwecouldn’tkickhimoutbecausethehouseisonlyinhisnamesoweleftandourmothersarefriendssoyourmomofferedtoletusstaywithyoubutIhadnoideathiswasyourhouse,” you blurted quickly, “I’m not a stalker, I swear!”

Tsukishima kept his glare focused on you without letting an ounce of sympathy show through. He still kept his defensive posture as he studied you.

“You think I would wanna move in with the guy who rejected me?” you continued, eager to defend yourself, “this is an accident.”

He scoffed, “accident is an understatement.”

Your cheeks burned with an angry heat. How the hell did you ever like this guy? Yesterday, you wanted nothing more than to have his hand in yours, but now instead you wanted to use your hands to strangle him instead.

Before you could retort back, Akane yelled from downstairs.

“Kids! Come down for dinner!”

He harshly glanced back at you, “this isn’t over.”

He walked out the room without another word.

Dinner consisted of Tsukishima’s parents and your mother catching up, as you stringed together a story. Akane and your mother were best friends up until Akane had Akiteru (who you learned was Tsukishima’s older brother, and the previous owner of your room), they drifted due to the newfound busyness of being parents, however, Akane was your mother’s first call when she needed someplace to stay because they still considered each other close friends.

“Ah, you know what?” Akane commented, “Y/N, since you’re living in a house with all Tsukishimas, you should just call Kei by his first name!”

You nearly choked on your rice, Tsukishima (Or Kei) clamped his teeth on his chopsticks a little too harshly.

“Oh, I don’t know, we barely know each other enough to be on a first name basis…” you awkwardly chuckled, trying to deflect the suggestion.

“Nonsense! You’re already living together, so you both should just use each other's first name.”

“Ah, alright…” you responded, realizing she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Just to avoid confusion, nothing else,” Kei mentioned coldly.

“Fine by me,” you snapped.

You both glared at each other, tension washing over the table. Akane and Hayami glanced at each other in confusion.

“Do you two know each other by any chance?” your mother questioned. “You both go to the same school.”

“No!” you both exclaimed quickly.

“Oh… alright then.”

“Well, now you both have the perfect opportunity to get to know each other!” Akane chirped, lightening the hostile environment you and Kei had created.

It was shocking that Akane was Kei’s mother, how the hell did somebody so cheerful give birth to somebody like Kei?

“Y/N, did you know that Kei loves dinosaurs? I’m sure he’d love to show you the figurines he has in his room-“

“Mom!” Kei yelped, red tingeing his cheeks. You nearly snorted at the sight, who knew that Tsukishima Kei was capable of getting embarrassed? And not to mention the fact he had dinosaur toys in his room.

“That sounds exactly like Y/N and strawberries,” your mother sighed, “Ever since she was a child-“

“Mom, please!” you exclaimed, cheeks burning, cutting her off. Kei deviously smirked, sipping his water, and you wanted nothing more for him to choke.

Akane gasped, clapping her hands together, “so you both love strawberries! It’s a match made in heaven!”

Kei spat out his water, and your mouth dropped in agape horror. If you sat at this table any longer, you would suffer an acute heart attack.

“I’m sorry, I- uh- have to go finish unpacking,” you stuttered as you hurriedly got up from the table, “thank you for dinner!”

“Kei, why don’t you help Y/N unpack?” Akane suggested.

“I’d rather not,” Kei deadpanned.

“Tsukishima Kei, you will go help our guest unpack, now.”

Akane’s demeanor changed drastically, a chill falling over the room, now you could see the family resemblance.

Kei grumbled something under his breath, and you both shuffled away to your room. Kei closed the door behind him, and turned to face you.

“Does anybody know you’re living here?” He questioned.

“I told Kiyoko, Yachi, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi, but they only know I moved in with a family friend, they don’t have any idea it’s your house.”

“Of course you’re friends with Oikawa Tooru,” he scoffed.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“You’re both irritating,” he sneered, “birds of a feather flock together.”

You could feel the blood rushing to your head in anger as you tried to subdue any murderous thoughts, but it was difficult to when he kept wearing that damn smirk.

“Who I’m friends with is none of your business!-“

“We need to set some ground rules,” Kei cut in.

Before you could open your mouth, he began.

“You are not to come into my room, and I won’t come into yours. You will not bother me whatsoever. We will not speak to each other unless necessary. We aren’t friends, just two people who happen to be put into an unfortunate situation together, got that?”

You hated that he was bossing you around, but the rules seemed necessary if you both were going to live civilly with each other.

“Fine,” you spat, “anything else?”

“One more thing,” he added. What other demands could he have?!

“Above all, nobody can know we live with each other.”

𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: immediately after leaving y/n’s room, tsukki hid all his dinosaur things in his closet so she wouldn’t see them.

𝐚/𝐧: the first arc of play date is done! we’re now moving onto the second arc.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃!): @sinistersith @moronsuke @yougivemebutterfliess @saturnfarie @peachiikichu @what-happens-inside-the-box @nonoszrk @cece-lives-here @belli-jelly @cvlliesstuff @ack-aashi @mindofess @virgoamajiki @natsukitakama @shimy-deko @irenevyas @virgoamajiki @toaster-stick @little-dark-empress @h0ngh0ngh0ng @freyafolkvangr @winunk @estmagnifique @thechaosoflonging @ilovesupersoldiers @simpletype @burntcilantro @ryryryleigh @animatedrapture @intothatbluebluesky @resetrestartandreplay @lostmarimoismyhubby @witcherydotcom @kukiisan @not-venice @grapesauze @amberisnotcrazy @tarasaoristark @ammemuts @cloudymotel @loving-unicorns106 @strawberryssel

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shotossecretary · 4 years

Text

bad day | Mafia AU Shoto Todoroki x Reader

This is my first fic! ahhhh so sorry if it’s not that great hahaha

Word count: 3740 gah damn, I did NOT expect for it to get this long LOL got carried away

Genre: Smut, NSFW

Summary: You’re a brat and Mafia!Todoroki isn’t having it after having a rough day dealing with issues of his own.

Warnings: Rough sex, slight degradation, spanking, slight BDSM, edging, overstimulation

“I don’t care what the excuse is, when I give you a job, you get it done.” Shoto growled at the pitiful heap of a man he just finished teaching a lesson to. He wiped the blood from his knuckles, scoffed at the man with disgust, and turned to leave. The other members looked on silently, never daring to interfere when their leader dished out discipline.

“Fuck.” Shoto scoffed as he hopped in his car, frustration making him scrunch his brow. He lingered on the steering wheel as he closed his eyes and leaned back on the head rest. What a day it had been. Since taking on one of the more significant leadership roles for the group, the stress had been building up through recent days. Today was the cherry on top. One of his men had a hit he was designated to fulfill and lost the man while simultaneously almost getting caught.

Such amateurs.

There were so many younger guys that had been recently recruited and the more they fucked up, the more Shoto felt his patience wearing down. They would laugh it off, dismissing the severity of being caught. That childishness is what set him off to the breaking point today of beating on of his guys as a reminder to acknowledge the consequences.

Shoto was a hero with a reputation that would be in grave danger if it was exposed to the public that he ran with a menacing crowd. They operated underground, attempting to fly beneath the public’s eyes as they carried out business ordeals at night and always, ALWAYS wore their signature black masks. Shoto never expected to be pulled into such a dirty cycle, but he justified it with the thought that their hits were against bad people. Aside from that, he hated to admit it- but he was a sucker for money. Their gang was one of the most powerful and intimidating in the area, and when they approached Shoto to join, it was a win-win for both sides.

---------------

Shoto backed out of the driveway and made his way home, annoyed thoughts biting at him the whole ride. Why did he have to worry about his men on top of everything else? In the moment, the thoughts of balancing his double life became overwhelming. He gritted his teeth and continued to weave through traffic. Being the reckless driver he was, he arrived at his luxury mansion in no time. Parking his car, his glanced in the rear view mirror to find an unforgiving reflection staring back at him. Running his hand through his hair, he attempted to make himself a bit more presentable. He didn’t have time for your questions, and knew if he showed up dirtied, you would pester him endlessly about it. Drained and ready to just get some peace and sleep, he stepped out of the car and made his way inside.

Your home was the perfect balance between modern and traditional. When you and Shoto got married, it didn’t take long to find the perfect one. Of course, he was straight out of hero school and was not affiliated with the gang yet. It almost tore you two apart when he joined. You were so opposed to his involvement in dark crimes- after all, he was a hero. Eventually, you tuned it out, trying your best to ignore the fact he ran with some of the most dangerous men.

Shoto burst through the door, clearly still angry. He threw his shoes off and mindlessly tossed his keys on the counter. You came out in the kitchen to greet him. Unaware that he had overlooked a stain of blood on his neck in his attempt to clean up before coming in, he pushed through to the bedroom.

“Where the hell did you get that from?” you narrowed your eyes as you tugged his shirt, halting him in the middle of the hallway.

Shoto half wanted to just dismiss it, but he knew you were just going to keep asking.

“I cut myself jumping down from a building when I was on a scene earlier rescuing a child.” He stated abruptly, hoping to shut your suspicions down. He knew you knew about his affiliations, but since you two never talked about it, he wasn’t about to bring it up now.

“Bullshit,” you said, “I went by the agency earlier to drop something off for you, and they said you weren’t on call tonight. You’ve been avoiding me the past week too, don’t fucking lie. This has something to do with that little mafia group of yours, doesn’t it?”

Heat mustering up in his chest, Shoto turned to face you, his heterochromatic eyes cutting through you.

“Why don’t you mind your fucking business? I thought you didn’t want anything to do with that part of my life, so why get all riled up now? Move. I had a rough day, I just want to sleep.”

You were done with his behavior.

“Because! You come home angry all the time, and I’ve already ignored some of the nights you come back with bloody clothes. That’s it, I’m over this. Running around fucking killing people like a criminal or pretending to be a hero. I can’t keep up with your shit anymore, Shoto.”

Shoto seethed at your words. Between his dysfunctional group of guys, the constant stress the agency was putting him under, and now YOU. He couldn’t take it. The patience in him snapped.

--------------------------

Before you knew what was happening, he had you by the wrist and forcibly led you to the bedroom. He pushed you in and locked the door behind him, looking more like a hungry predator than your husband. You knew his rough days got the best of him and when they did, the loving man you were infatuated with disintegrated. You couldn’t say you didn’t find some kind of satisfaction from bringing out his dark side, but damn, tonight he looked PISSED.

He stood over you now, staring at you with carnal intent, before breaking the stare and tossing you on the armchair in the corner.

“You know, I had planned to just shower and go to bed, but since you wanted to put your nose where it doesn’t belong, you’ll learn your place tonight.” He leaned down to you, his face an inch from you. You turned away.

“Better be in position for me when I get out, princess” he whispered, his breath grazing your neck.

You knew what this meant. Every time he had a particularly rough day, he used you as relief. He got up and disappeared into the master bathroom, where you heard him let the water run and step in the shower.

You debated leaving like you were just yelling in the hallway about. But you couldn’t do that. He had eyes everywhere, he would find you. Besides, in some twisted way, you relished in the power this man had over you no matter how hard you tried to break it.

Realizing he would be done soon, you slipped out of the chair and into your designated position. You sat slowly on your knees, with your hands in your lap. You brushed your hair back, ready and waiting.

Then, a thought flickered across your mind- disobey him. You knew more than anyone how serious Shoto was when he gave orders, he expected full compliance. He was used to it. You never defied him.

He doesn’t deserve it. You thought, not wanting to give in to his demands. With that, you lifted yourself back up and into the chair, slouching and making it seem like you didn’t care. You waited as you heard his wet footsteps padding towards the door.

“You better be in position princess,” his voice drifted through the door.

You waited anxiously. He stepped in, clad in a black silk robe and gently rubbing his hair with the back of his towel. Your eyes studied his figure, one that was almost too beautiful for you sight. The robe was loosely tied so that his toned chest was exposed and his wet hair look….my god, was that your weakness.

A sharp “tch” snapped you out of your thoughts. He had lifted his gaze to see you, still in the same spot he left you in.

Your stomach fluttered seeing his realization that were defying him. A sly smile crossed your lips as you fixated your stare on his narrowed eyes. Dropping the towel on the floor, he approached you quickly, bending down to pinch your cheeks in his hand in a rather tight grip.

“You think this is funny? I told you to be in position when I finished.”

You cocked your brow, your brattiness still stirring despite his grip on your face.

“Didn’t feel like it”

In response to your tone, Shoto moved his hand from your cheeks to your hair, yanking you up and walking you over to the bed.

He pushed you over, as you stumbled to catch the side of the mattress, looking back at him, biting your lip, challenge still glimmering in your eyes as you silently dared him to do his worst.

Boiling with pure annoyance at your disobedience from earlier, the dominant in Shoto leaped out as he turned your head, forcing your upper body into the mattress. Your shorts were pulled down and his hand found the bridge in your back as he pushed down, hard.

“Stay right fucking there. I swear if you move.”

He went to the dresser and you could hear him fumbling through his belts. Once he came back over, he smoothed it and doubled it over. Keeping your composure, you tried to peer over at him, to which he noticed and quickly took his left hand and pushed your face forward.

“Keep your eyes forward. You’re going to watch.”

You were facing the mirror that sat on the other side of your bed. Shoto kept his hand in your hair and brought down the belt to grazed your ass. You didn’t even see it in the air before you felt it. Taken aback by the force, you fell slightly forward and bit the sheets.

“What did I say- eyes up” Shoto barked.

You looked up with fire in your eyes, glaring at him. Seeing how mad you were did nothing but to intensify his hits, determined to break the brat in you tonight.

Smack. The second one came down hard and biting down on your lip, you struggled to keep your shriek in. “Sho-“ you whined quietly.

Shoto wasn’t pleased with your lack of response and continued to rain down spanks with no rest between, inevitably forcing tears to spring out of your eyes. “Who’s Sho? What do you call me princess? Better start acting right or this gets worse for you.”

“I-I meant Daddyy” you try and make up for your mistake. You looked at your reflection, now falling apart at the hands of your husband.

Your whimpers satisfied his ears as he threw the belt to the ground and stepped back to admire his work. Bending down to place a soft kiss on it, he let his tongue trace the newly formed welts.

“I didn’t want to do this princess, but you had to learn a lesson for being such a brat earlier,” he mumbled against your skin. You swayed your hips back, still panting from how winded the spanking got you. The coolness of his tongue felt soothing and for a moment you thought that was it. But he was far from done with you.

He spun you around. Falling back on the arm chair and untying his robe, he stared you down.

“Strip.”

You only had your bra and shirt still on but shyly slipped out of them. His eyes ravaged your figure, thirsty to have you at his mercy. His hand rubbed against his robe, ready for some release.

“Come here. You’re going to suck me off and make me feel good”

Shoto gestured for you to sit at his feet, to which you followed. Your ass sat back on your heels, still tender and red. Looking up at him, you reached for his cock. He grabbed your wrist and threw it back.

“No hands, use your teeth.”

With that, you glided your teeth over his robe and gently unwrapped it from his body. His dick revealed itself to you and you licked at it before Shoto grew impatient.

“Stop with the teasing” he hissed and pushed you down. If there was something you were an absolute beast at, it was giving head. Shoto knew it too. He knew you were capable of taking his length expertly. As you sank down on him, he threw his head back with a deep moan.

“Fuuuck Y/N, you know how to please Daddy. What a good girl”

His praises made you melt as you responded with sloppy gags as your eyes rolled up to look at him. He was barely holding on, you could see it in his expression. Turned on by your gaze, he wrapped his hands around your head and forced you down. You stayed there until you sputtered and your throat burned, leading you to pinching his thigh twice- the signal you used for when you couldn’t take it. He pulled you off sharply, briefly scanning you for any real distress. Despite having an actual dark side, even in the bedroom, Shoto would never take it too far, so long as you permitted it. He opted to teach you lessons when needed, but would never fully want to break you.

You looked up at him- mascara running and saliva smeared on your chin and smirked. “Done already?” you teased. Taking this as an indication that you were fine, his expression flickered back to his dominant demeanor. “As if,” he scuffed. “I’m far from done with your bratty ass.”

Thrusting his dick back in your mouth, your breath hitched in surprise. Shoto was now frowning down on you, watching you bob up and down. “Fuck babe, I’m gonna cum” he exhaled out. You closed your eyes and prepared yourself, all while he repeatedly hit the back of your throat.

He groaned as he released and you felt the warmth seep on your tongue. “Hold it, don’t swallow,” Shoto ordered. You froze in surprise, never being told to do this before. As his cum shot into your mouth, the taste was too strong, you gulped it down before even giving his request a second thought.

“Did you just swallow it?” Shoto looked down, obviously disappointed. “You’re such a fucking slut you couldn’t even wait to drink my cum couldn’t you?”

He brought his thumb to lift your face to meet his. “And here I thought you were starting to learn. But you’re still a bad girl, Y/N....sooo bad”

You shivered in his touch. Fuck. You didn’t mean to swallow. You had already dropped the brattiness in hopes of getting properly fucked after your spanking, but now you dug yourself a deeper hole.

Shoto lifted you and pushed you on the bed, where you fell face first into the pillows.

“Get your fucking ass up in the air” he mumbled, as he hitched your hips up roughly. You stayed on your forearms, waiting in your vulnerable position for whatever he had in store. He slid off the bed to the headboard, where he had attachments for cuffs you two used every now and then.

“Hands.”

You offered him your wrists, watching as he cuffed them straight above you. You laid on your stomach with your hands attached to the bed, your ass up and out before him. Shoto moved to examine your perfectly posed frame, all for him. You were a blank canvas for him to mark as he pleased.

You winced as he dragged his hand on your sensitive ass, his fingers slipping ever so lightly over your folds, making you lighthead. “Shoto please, I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be a good girl, please”

Your reasoning did nothing to offset the mans intentions. “Oh princess, you’ll be a good girl by the time I’m done with you” he calmly said, moving his face to be at face level with your slit. Without warning, he brought his tongue to your entrance and began violently lapping streaks up and down. You squealed. Both of you had oral game that was out of this world. Your mind swirled as he continued to devour you, his thumb reaching around to rub your clit. You felt a tingling creeping up and with that, you started to mewl Shoto’s name. He pinched your clit roughly and muttered through eating you out “uh uh, that’s not my name”

The added vibrations of his voice against your most sensitive parts made you cry out. “Daddy! I’m gonna cum” With that, he took it away. His tongues, his fingers, everything- gone. Frustration built up in your chest as you tried to grind back against something….anything.

Shoto let out a menacing chuckle. “Baby, you aren’t going to cum until I say you can, understand?”

You grit your teeth and nod. Of course.

“Look at you. Fucking dripping like a whore. Your pussy is just waiting to be filled, isn’t that right?”

Still caught up in your lost orgasm, you weren’t paying attention. That is until an icy hand wrapped around your throat, jerking you up and arching your back against his chest.

“Answer me,” he growled softly in your ear.

“Y-yes daddy. I want to be filled by your cock”

Shoto sighed in approval and reached up to adjust the cuffs, directing you to lay on your back. You wiggled under him and watched him ready himself. Pushing the hair away from your face, he leaned down to his your temple and whispered “You ready for Daddy to fuck you into your place, princess?”

You nodded slowly, now under his spell, fully submissive….straight up putty in his hands.

He lined himself up with you and slowly inched inside, carefully watching as your face contorted. He bottomed out and fell forward, only stopping for a few seconds to let your adjust before he began his pace. It was brutal. He took his length out before slamming it all in, forcing your breath to be stuck in your throat.

“Daddy- unf..harder..please”

Shoto smirked and leaned back, placing your legs on his shoulders. He continued to drill into you, your hands growing sore off the cuffs as you were rocked up and down. You didn’t care. The insane pleasure outweighed the pain.

“Look at me”

Your half lidded eyes sprung open to stare into Shoto’s, full of lust. He smiled at your mangled expression.

“Looks like my pretty little princess has been broken. Tell me, did you learn your lesson?”

“MMhmmm” you can barely draw out any words as you nod fervently, as he went deeper into you.

Shoto slowed down temporarily to reach over to the dresser to grab a small bullet vibrator.

Oh no. You thought. You knew how one of Shoto’s favorite punishments were edging and overstimulation. You had hoped he forgot but then again, when did he ever.

Placing the vibrator on your clit, Shoto flipped it on, drawing an immediate cry from you. Your cuff hands yanked against their restraints to no avail. You tried squeezing your legs closed, only to be met by his hand roughly pushing it back open.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing? Stay put, you’re taking this punishment.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes. You knew this was going to push you over. He hiked it up to the highest setting and you turned your head to bite in your arm to suppress your screams. Between his cock rutting in and out of you at an unforgiving speed and the vibrations, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. You began to see stars.

“Don’t you dare cum. Hold it.”

“I can’t! It’s too much” you cried, tears spilling over as you whined, begging your husband to take it easy.

“You wanted to be a brat today, you can take it. You won’t cum until I tell you to”

His words made you heave in frustration. How the hell were you going to hold out?

Suddenly, the vibrator turned off, his dick left you, but his head dipped down quickly. Pretty soon, three fingers were pumping in and out as you continued to feel your orgasm approaching. Shoto licked and sucked your clit, knowing you were on the edge. He softly bit at it, which made your hips rise off the bed and plead for your release.

“Please daddy! I can’t anymore, I have to cum”

He watched you writhe, not saying anything and his lack of response made you question whether it wad okay to let go. He was teasing you. Shoto continued slamming his fingers into your g-spot as he looked up.

“Cum, Y/N. Cum all over my fingers”

Not even a second after you heard his permission, your orgasm hit you hard as you came undone on his hand. Looking satisfied he retracted his hand from your pussy. Moving up, he thrust his cock back into you. Eyes shooting open, you stifle a scream as he plowed your now overly sensitive cunt.

“Ahhh~ I can’t again, its too sensitive Sho, not so fast”

“I haven’t came yet angel, don’t be fucking selfish” he growled as he chased his high. Holding your hips down into the bed, you felt his quirk lightly activate, as your left hip started to freeze and your right was heating up. Tears streamed as you silently screamed, overly stimulated to the point where your voice was knocked out of you. Shoto grunted, falling on top of you, as he reached his peak.

Sighing into your neck, he collapsed beside you. Reaching up, he unfastened you from the headboard and you brought your hands down to massage them. Just as fast as your little session had manifested, the dark glow was gone from Shoto. He lightly kissed your slightly bruised wrists. “Sorry,” he looked up with a soft face. You returned a small smile to him.

“You’re such a good girl, Y/N. I love you” he smirked before getting up to get a glass of water. You sighed. There was just something about him you could never get enough of.

#todoroki x reader #shoto torodoki #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #bnha imagines #bnha smut #mha imagines #mha smut #brat taming #todoroki #bnha todoroki #shouto headcanons #bnha shouto #bnha lemon #todoroki lemon

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renxzs · 5 years

Text

Redamancy

Redamancy (n): the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Roommate AU - Maybe it was a bit naive to think moving in with your best friend and long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, was going to be some smooth road that led to an admittance of mutual feelings for one another and a happily-ever-after ending, wrapped up nicely in a bow. Naive indeed; especially when you have to consider the fact that Bucky is the biggest womanizer you know.

Warnings / Tags: sexual themes, mutual pinning, angst, cursing, fluff

Word Count: 7,305

A/N: Thank you so much to @marvelfulxbabes for hosting this writing challenge (and for being so gracious in giving me an extension)!! I really hope you like this! :) Also, I wanted to thank @xetoilerouge for her unyielding kindness and willingness to toss around plot ideas with me when I was hitting a wall. You're the best!! And last, but certainly not least, I want to give a huge thank you to my A1 since day one on here, @interabangs, for essentially being my beta, sounding board, and biggest cheerleader all wrapped up in one when this fic was being...difficult. 💚

You stare blankly at the ceiling above you, having been awake long enough for your eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Lifting the phone that was settled facedown on your chest, you squint blearily at the time. 2:17am. An indignant sigh heaves from your lips and a scowl is etched into your features.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

The steady tempo of the sound--wood frame meeting drywall--grows erratic and increases in speed.

There is a deep, sick churning in the pit of your stomach and your breaths are unsteady. You swallow thickly against the growing lump in the back of your throat. Teeth bite into your bottom lip painfully as a wave of emotions clamor and claw their way up through your chest, demanding to be felt, released--the onslaught nearly suffocating.

Heartache sits heavily in your chest, and it takes a little more effort than usual to shove it back in its box--to compartmentalize it--before the ache can further blossom and seep; throb within your bones, prick and tingle in the tips of your limbs.

Eyes squeeze shut as the hot sting of tears threaten to fall. You roughly press the heel of your palms against your eyes in frustration. A deep breath is dragged in through the small parting of your lips in an attempt to steady your heart and clear your head. You were being foolish. He wasn't yours to cry over. He wasn't yours, period.

And that’s where the problem lies within the glaring truth of the situation: Bucky isn't yours.

He was free to bring home whatever willing woman he happened across while out with Sam and Steve. And tonight he did just that.

You shift under the covers and curl up on your side, placing your phone facedown on the nightstand with a pathetic inward groan. It wasn’t often, with everyone’s busy schedules, that the whole group managed to get together to go out for a night. However, tonight was one of those nights, and guilt had filled you when you chose to pass on seeing your friends--

A low muffled groan sounds through the wall and your features consequently pinch up as a momentary pang throbs in your chest once more and tears prick at the back of your eyes.

--but this was exactly what you were trying to avoid. Yet here you are, near 2:30am, wide awake and alone; pitifully miserable, and being taunted by the sounds of the man your heart ached for fucking someone else. A knife to the heart, really.

You hunker further into the soft plushness of bedding, seeking any form of comfort you can latch onto. Fingers tug at the edges of the duvet to pull it around yourself tightly to block out the cool air of the room and everything else outside the four walls of your bedroom.

You let out a heavy breath. Yes, you felt guilty turning down the boys’ offer earlier that day, choosing to stay home instead. A barely-there smile touches your lips briefly, thinking how Sam and Bucky always mercilessly poked fun at one another--albeit, lovingly--and how you and Steve were always smirking over beer glasses at their antics, eventually shifting your conversation to how things were progressing between him and Peggy or whatever else was going on in your lives at the moment.

The soft half-smile on your lips slowly melts back into an impassive line. By the end of the night though, you knew the inevitable was bound to happen; it usually played out the same. Bucky's attention would be pulled by a pair of flirty batted eyelashes, roaming hands that were as bold as the stifling perfume she would be wearing, and full lips that were glossed to the max.

You would then find yourself crammed in the backseat of a cab with Bucky and his conquest of the night, fighting back bile, the alcohol in your stomach suddenly feeling as bitter as the taste on your tongue at the sight of her hand inching higher and higher up his thigh. That, or you would cooly play it off that you weren't ready to turn in for the night just to avoid a shared cab ride home with Bucky and whatever girl was latched onto his arm, even though, in all honestly, you were exhausted as fuck and wanted nothing more than to be curled up in your bed.

In the case of the latter scenario, Sam and Steve never failed to look at you with the saddest eyes, though warm smiles still played on their lips--an effort to mask the utter pity they most likely felt for you--when you sat slumped at the bar just a little longer to wait out Bucky’s evening romp back at the apartment. Gracious as always, the boys never pushed you to talk about it; for that, you were grateful. Nothing like discussing how pathetically in love you were with your best friend to two of your other shared best friends.

Unwilling to stomach either scenario, you had politely turned down tonight's invite out, claiming you needed a quiet evening in after a week from hell at work. Mentions of understanding and oversized hugs soon followed, then Sam and Steve were out the front door. With a parting kiss to the forehead and a chuckled “don't have too much fun, doll,” Bucky was gone, too, a moment later.

In all honesty, the quiet night in actually ended up being just what you needed, having enjoyed two glasses of red as some cliche Netflix rom-com played in the background. The sweet hazelnut cream scent of your favorite candles had filled your bedroom as they burned, and the flickering firelight danced on the walls of your dimmed bedroom. Between lightheartedly scoffing at the cheesy movie playing on the TV and firing off sarcastic texts to Nat about the laughable state of your own love life, your spirits seemed to have gradually lifted.

Slowly you had nodded off, mind and heart at peace for a short while. Living with your best friend has proven to be far more difficult than you initially anticipated--far more emotionally taxing. Sure, you didn’t expect it to always be perfect, but you also didn’t expect to feel this exhausted as often as you did.

The heart could only take so much unrequited love before it was sure to shrivel up, grey and dark, and dust away to nothing more, starved of a love it so desperately yearned for.

The sharp sound of a bedroom door being kicked shut had jolted you awake, ripping you from the warmth of temporary peace. Groggily blinking the sleep from your eyes, you were only disoriented for a moment before the familiar low muffled tones of Bucky’s voice could be heard through the shared wall of your bedrooms. Your heart had plummeted as the reality of the situation sunk in; and another shriveled up piece began to crumble away.

The now deafening silence of the apartment pulls you from the inner thoughts you had fallen deep into. It was finally quiet again, your personal hell having ended for the night. A relieved sigh falls from your lips and your eyes droop heavily with an exhaustion you can feel in your bones before you are once again pulled into a dreamless sleep.

***

You are in a particularly foul mood this morning as you sit perched on a stool at the kitchen bar. Your shoulders slump forward while you stare unseeingly into the steaming mug of coffee nestled between your hands. Bucky takes notice of your sour demeanor, eyes continually falling back to you, gaze swimming with concern as he flips another pancake.

Already having shut down his attempts at conversation, silence falls between the two of you save the spatula scraping against the hot skillet. You slowly bring the mug up to your lips and take a long sip, allowing the liquid to spread and warm you; praying the caffeine will kick in soon and give you the needed energy to make it through this day.

A throat clears next to you and your eyes slide to the right to take in Bucky standing close by. He has on your favorite pair of black sweatpants that hang on his hips just right and a grey cotton tee that is a size too small but he always insists on wearing. Of course, you never complain. Gah--damn him! Why does he have to look so effortlessly good in the morning? Especially when you’re trying to be pissed at him.

Eyes tear away from his chest and your gaze falls to the plate in his hand that is stacked full of chocolate chip pancakes. He clears his throat once more, perhaps a bit nervously, pulling your attention up to his face, which is painted with an apprehensive grin.

He sets the plate down in front of you. “Made your favorite.”

The sweet smell of melted chocolate chips wafts in the air and makes your mouth water. A finger twitches against the hot ceramic encased by your hands as you fight the urge to reach for the plate. Bucky makes the best pancakes and he knows they’re your favorite. But you’re not ready to give in to his charm just yet, so all you offer in response is a quirked brow as you quietly eye the plate in front of you before flickering your gaze back to him.

He drops heavily onto the stool next to you and drags a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise at his apology. Bucky turns on the stool to better face you.

“I woke up feeling awful this morning, realizing how loud we must‘a been coming in last night.” He shook his head softly before racking a hand through his unruly chestnut locks. He dips his chin before peeking up, icy blue eyes catching yours as he smiles at you sheepishly. “I, uh, had a bit more to drink than I should’ve with the guys. You know how I get...” he says with a low chuckle.

You bite your lip as your eyes fall back to the cooling coffee in front of you. Bucky is quick to speak again. “Not that it makes it okay! I just-- I’m sorry, doll. I’m a shit roommate and a shit best friend--”

“You are not a shit best friend, Buck,” you finally say. Sure, he’s unknowingly stomped your heart into the ground repeatedly, but that doesn’t make him a bad friend. It just makes him clueless and you a coward for never saying anything. You huff a sigh as your resolve begins to crumble. “Your roommate etiquette still has room for improvement though...” a slow smirk tugs on your lips.

Bucky instantly breaks into a grin and nods as the tension melts away from his frame, relieved to get the white flag of truce from you. “I couldn’t agree more. Promise I’ll do better, doll. Cross my heart and all.”

You hum in acknowledgement while pulling the plate of pancakes in front of you. “Now give me a fork before these get cold.”

Bucky tips his head back with a hearty laugh as he stands on the rung of his stool and reaches across the bar top to snag two forks out of the utensil drawer. He loves how much you enjoy his cooking, especially how open you are about it. He watches with a soft smile as you drizzle syrup across the fluffy stack of sweet goodness, always careful to keep the stickiness contained to your plate.

You cut through the stack of pancakes and bring a forkful to your mouth. A blissful moan rumbles behind your lips as you chew happily.

“Good?”

“The best,” you say vehemently as you cut off another bite then push the plate towards Bucky to share.

He picks up his own fork and plucks up a piece of pancake from the plate. His eyes linger momentarily on your lips as you happily chew another bite. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your temple before joining in on the sugary breakfast.

“Good.”

***

The rest of breakfast proceeds like any other day, it being easy to fall back into the step of your friendship. Bucky recounted in the utmost explicit detail how Sam had a few too many drinks the night before and somehow got his hands on the karaoke microphone. You were almost sorry you missed such a sight, but your ears had been spared without a doubt. Sam has many great qualities: a kind heart, a great smile, a healthy dose of snark to his sense of humor… but a pleasant singing voice is not one of them.

The time spent with Bucky gradually lightens your mood, the morning’s sourness nearly forgotten. Your laughter trills throughout the kitchen space and your side aches in the best way. A goofy smile adorns his lips, eyes crinkled in the corners. His gaze never strays from you. Unwelcome flutters dance in your belly and your eyes fall to the faux granite island top, unable to withstand the heat of his gaze any longer. Teeth drag across your bottom lip as you slip off the barstool and gather up the dirty dishes and cooking utensils that litter the counter and stove.

Bucky remains seated as his eyes shamelessly follow your movements in the small kitchen space. Lips settle into a soft smile as you get lost in thought while completing your task. Minutes pass before Bucky slinks up next to you, arms casually crossed over his chest and lower back leaned against the counter in a comfortable silence. You are elbow deep in suds, scrubbing clean the last of the dishes as you fulfill a previously established agreement: whoever cooks is excused from dish duty. Pushing the sink handle up with the top of your wrist, a steady stream begins to flow out the nozzle again. You quietly rinse the final dish, shake the excess water from it, and place it in the drying rack to your right. Bucky snags a clean towel and tosses it to you to dry your hands with. You offer a smile of gratitude as you make your way over to wipe down the island.

“So,” he draws out, “you wanna veg out with me today and watch some god-awful movies?” You don’t have to look up to see the knowing smile etched on his face and the inevitable wiggle of his brows as he tries to peak your interest.

A smile creeps onto your lips. Hunkering down on the couch with Bucky, surrounded by too many snacks and laughing at cheesy movies sounds like the perfect Saturday in all honesty. Movie binging sessions always led to getting real cozy with one another, though; his fingers absentmindedly smoothing through the ends of your hair and you snuggled up against him.

Your teeth bite into the plumpness of your bottom lip, mulling over his offer. You slowly pad over to the trashcan and shake crumbs out from the rag you had just wiped the counters down with, stalling to produce an answer.

The thought of turning down his offer sends a pang through you, chest hollow and yearning for your best friend. Lounging around together without a care, talking about everything and nothing, simply enjoying one another’s company--you’ve not gotten that type of quality time with one another in so long, and you miss it terribly. However, simultaneously, your heart aches deeply, yearning for Bucky. The kind of ache that blossoms from an unrequited love; debilitating and doubling over with loss of something that was never yours to begin with. It swallows you into empty, lonely nothing.

Movements slow and deliberate, you hang the towel on the oven handle with your back to Bucky. He must sense your hesitance and your stomach is sinking, decision already made.

You can’t.

Your heart cannot withstand enduring a day holed up on the couch with him, falling prey to the illusion that maybe, just maybe, you and Bucky could have more than friendship. Not while the freshly torn-open wounds of your heart are still exposed and weeping from the previous night. No, you needed time to yourself for healing; to regenerate and mend, to sew the tender and frayed pieces of yourself back together once more--a little less perfect each time, a little less whole. But no longer would you be in pieces, and sometimes that is as good as it can get.

You clear your throat, aware your silence has stretched on a bit too long. Body now facing him, you force your eyes to slowly crawl up the length of Bucky’s body until you finally meet his gaze. Lips gently tug up at the corners to offer him a small smile--anything to soften your decline of his offer--and shake your head. “Sorry, Buck, but I uh- I really need today to finish that project for work or Tony is going to have my ass.” That wasn’t exactly a lie.

That natural glow and energy to Bucky dims momentarily as his features falter--the curve of his smile begins to fall into a line; the crinkles in the corners of his eyes fade away; a little ridge forms between his brows that you fight to not smooth away with your thumb; the light dulls in those icy blues. Another beat later and Bucky snaps back, natural glow and energy seemingly intact. You blink, wondering if you had simply imagined his momentary disappointment.

Bucky pushes off the counter’s edge and saunters forward to lean across the island top on his elbows, that enticing sparkle in his eye and lilt in his tone in a sure attempt to get you to buckle, “Awwh, c’mon, doll. Please? When’s the last time we’ve made fun of bad movies together?”

You fidget with your hands and shift your weight from one foot to the other, unsure of what to do with yourself, desperately just wanting out of this situation and to seek the shelter your room was sure to provide. You offer a halfhearted shrug, a rueful smile playing on your lips. “I’ll have to take a raincheck this time, Buck.”

The fall of his features cannot be mistaken this time, and guilt swirls low in your belly at the sight. He straightens his posture, gaze boring into you, uncertain, studying you. “Did I...do something?”

Words tumble from your mouth a little too quickly and you curse yourself for it, “No, not at all.” A tight smile back on your lips.

Bucky’s gaze steadily follows as you move closer to the archway leading out of the kitchen and further away from him. “Yea, okay.” He clears his throat and throws a thumb in the direction of the living room. “I’ll uh- I’ll be out here watching movies if you change your mind.”

You nod before taking the final step out of the kitchen. Your feet carry you across the small apartment to the safety of your bedroom, resting your back against the door once it’s securely closed. A physical representation of the feeling of separation between you and Bucky at that moment. A long, shaky breath dispels from deep within your lungs. With a soft thump, your head lolls back against the wood of the door and your eyes fall shut.

As wrong as it feels, this is the right thing to do for you. At least that is what you’ll keep telling yourself.

***

The week passes by uneventfully and you go about your days as normal as possible. The work project Tony expected from you was very real and served as a sufficient distraction from the awkward dance your personal life was turning into. Interactions with Bucky have been sparse, which has only deepened the growing sense of separation and distance between the two of you. His gaze lingers on you longer whenever you emerge from the sanctuary of your room to retrieve some type of sustenance or to leave for errands or work. You feel it, his gaze, burning into your back and simmering through your veins while you lousily attempt to be inconspicuous; feel the unasked questions that hang thickly in the air around you.

Did I do something wrong?

Are you okay?

Are we okay?

It’s heavy. Not as heavy as the guilt sinking in your gut, though. Hurting him or making him feel bad isn’t your intention. You just needed some space, a little time. Thought maybe that was the answer, the magic remedy to the perpetual pinning rooted deep in your chest, thorny vines entwined tightly and intricately around every major artery, snaking down into your bones.

Time heals everything--isn’t that what they always say? Maybe it’s a bunch of bullshit.

Because you sure as hell don’t feel healed.

The rumble of heavy glass drags across the wood shelf of a cabinet as you strain to pull down a bottle of bourbon. If anything, time be damned, the smooth burn of a good liquor and the blanket of numbness it so graciously provides to cozy up in never fails to do the trick. For a little while at least.

A small grunt sounds in the back of your throat as both feet securely plant to the floor again, large bottle in hand. Success. Retrieving a drinking glass proves to be a much easier task. Fingers deftly uncap the bottle and you pour two fingers worth of the amber liquid into your glass, hastily tossing it back a moment later. The burn is familiar, comforting. Something to focus your attention on. Without a thought, the glass is replenished.

Chest expands as you drag in a deep breath, eyes drifting close momentarily, before air rushes out past your lips. If only you could push the sadness out just as easily. Glass and bottle in hand, you trudge towards the living room, not bothering to flip on any of the lighting fixtures strategically placed around your living space. Lamps you and Bucky dedicated an entire afternoon one weekend picking out together. He had insisted on taking you shopping to find trinkets and whatever other overlooked treasures waiting to be discovered, as he had proclaimed, to decorate your newly shared apartment with. He wanted to ensure it felt like your place, too.

Why does he always have to be so good?

You drop unceremoniously to the couch with a long sigh, practically tortured, entirely pathetic. The bottle clanks as it meets the coffee table, still within reach. You bring the drinking glass to your lips and swallow down a generous glup, pondering why you even bothered with a glass to begin with.

Living with Bucky wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Though, you weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting. Loving a best friend who only views you as just that--a best friend--is exhausting, excruciating, maddening.

To cut that part of your heart out and be free of everything that has weighed you down, placed unintentional strains on your friendship with Bucky over the last several months; to no longer have words of admittance and truth die on your tongue, far too scared to express them, leaving behind bitter taste… how freeing that could be.

But you are a coward. Too scared to share your feelings with Bucky. The glass finds its way to your lips once more and you drain it of its contents. You reach for the bottle on the coffee table, movements beginning to feel a little lighter and your face a bit flushed--both tell signs of the bourbon coursing through you.

Amber liquid splashes into the glass, sloshing against the edges; trapped--just like you felt in this less than ideal situation.

You knock back the entire contents of the glass once more, eyes tightly squeezed shut and a small grimace in your features. Tongue heavy, darts out across your bottom lip to catch a stray droplet and then you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand for good measure. Thoughts are clearing and fuzzing at the edges all at once, and your body pricks with the slightest tingles just beneath the skin’s surface.

Eyes flicker around the dim room that is littered with evidence of your friendship with Bucky. Pictures decorate the walls and bookshelf, some with just the two of you, others with your friends and families. Always side-by-side in each, nonetheless. Head lolling to the side, your gaze settles on the empty cushion next to you. Well, not so much anymore.

A heavy breath heaves through your nose and your eyes avert from the reminder that you are sitting alone--by your own doing--drinking away your sorrows, which is not doing the trick this time around. What a fabulous Friday night.

You groan internally before reaching for the bottle once more. Topaz liquid pours and swirls into the glass and for a second you get lost in the motion of it, your brain desperately grabbing on to anything in its inebriated state that could pull your thoughts back to Bucky and the pretty gold flecks that mix in with the deep azure blue of his eyes when sunlight hits them just right.

You slump back against the couch with your glass in hand, idly wondering what Bucky was doing at the moment. Drinking himself, sure, but surrounded by the laughter of friends and too loud music, the smell of stale smoke, and whatever else a bar inhabits. You could be there, too, enjoying a night out with friends. God knows you could use it instead of sulking around at home, drowning in lonely solitude and whatever liquor that happens to be sitting closest on the shelf. Your nose wrinkles at the thought, sounding like a sad drunk.

Your head falls back to rest against the plush cushion and eyes drift close as a finger slowly traces the rim of the glass in your hand. Quiet solitude--albeit lonely and a beacon for all unwanted thoughts of Bucky and the many reasons you can’t have him--is better than witnessing first-hand Bucky on the prowl.

Muffled voices, laughter and the clanking of keys down the hall outside your front door pull you from your thoughts. Your stomach plummets immediately, a rush of nausea and nerves shooting through you. Mind foggy with alcohol slows your reflexive thinking; you take too long deciding if you should take cover in the safety of your bedroom before whatever awaits on the other side of the front door comes barreling in.

Keys clank against the door and the metallic shifting within the lock tells you it's too late, and suddenly tinny giggles fill the room, piercing through the comfort bubble of your home. Muscles seize up with an intermixing of tension and dread while your skin pricks from the direct proximity of Bucky and the giddy blonde hanging off his arm.

A crease of concern is pinched between Bucky’s eyebrows when he notices you slumped on the couch, only the soft glow of the bulbed lights strung above the balcony coming in through the sliding glass door illuminates the room. Your fingers are wrapped around a glass that rests against your leg. Bucky's eyes travel from the glass to the bottle of bourbon sitting on the coffee table in front of you and quirks a brow in question.

You faintly hear Bucky murmur something to his lay of the night before ushering her down the short hall, towards his bedroom you presume.

A moment later, the couch dips next to you under Bucky's weight.

“Doll, you okay?” His voice hesitant, laced with evident concern.

Shoulders lift to a noncommittal half-shrug and you mumble an “I’m fine” before raising the glass to your lips. The burn of the liquid down your throat gives you something to focus on rather than the man next to you and how fucking good he smells or the warmth radiating from his close proximity.

Bucky says your name pointedly. The man knows you far too well for your own good, able to easily parse through your flimsy attempt at reassurance. So desperately, time after time, you've tried to feed yourself that same lie, that you're fine.

But you aren’t fine, and saying so never convinced you to believe it. So how did you expect Bucky to?

“Clearly you’re not fine,” he says as his eyes fall to the nearly empty glass in your hand. He reaches out slowly and gingerly pulls the glass from your grasp. After placing it onto the coffee table he settles back next to you. “C’mon, talk to me.”

You nod your head towards the hall. “She's waiting,” barely able to bite back the bitterness in your tone.

“And she can continue to wait. You're more important, doll.” He shifts closer and the smell of him overwhelms your senses--notes of vanilla and cedar, and a hint of whiskey on his breath.

Bucky’s thumb softly drags over the warm skin atop your hand. Slowly--against your better judgement--your eyes begin to slide shut, heavy with the exhaustion of putting on a facade for so long, of trying to convince yourself that being just friends wasn't slowly chipping away at you; sleep deprived from the nights heartache disguised itself as insomnia. His gentle touches lure you into a false sense of comfort. Just for a moment it's you and him.

A soft sigh escapes your lips and you revel in the quiet shared between the two of you. You miss this, miss him. You’re nearly lost in the illusion of it all before sounds of someone fumbling around in the next room--Bucky's room--rips you back to the present, your eyes snapping open at the whiny muffled call of his name.

Bucky senses the shift in you but doesn’t react quick enough, your hand already snatched from him before he can grab on to you. In a blur you are on your feet, putting the coffee table between the two of you. You ignore his outstretched hand and take a few seconds to steady yourself, to wade through the fuzzy haze of your head. The bourbon coursing through you had the room turning and you feeling overly warm... maybe the latter had less to do with the amber liquid and more so with the fact that the man you were in love with has a woman waiting in his room who wasn't you.

The thought is pushed away with a subtle shake of the head, your nails dragging across your scalp as you rack a hand through your hair. You vaguely register your name being called after you, Bucky’s voice sounding dejected. But your heart hurt and you were dejected, and you needed this moment to just feel it, to let the ache consume you and seep deep. There was no more energy left in you to fight it tonight, and maybe if you didn't you would have enough strength come tomorrow morning to shove all back down and secure it shut with a soft smile.

So, even though every inch of your body screams with each step you take down the hall, further away from Bucky sounding so sad--instincts wanting to kick in and be the consoling best friend once more--your fingers numbly push open your bedroom door and then close again behind you.

Peeling back the comforter, you ease into bed, body heavy and not feeling like your own. The warmth of the liquor sloshes low in your belly and your eyes ache as you curl onto your side and stare at nothing.

Muffled sounds through the door fill the quiet. You can’t make out the words being exchanged and you don't try to. Hot tears, one after another, silently roll down the slope of your nose and side of your face into the cotton of your pillow. You let out a shaky breath at the sound of a door latching. Fingers curled in the soft blanket, you pull it tighter and burrow further into the plush materials encasing you, seeking out whatever comfort you can latch onto.

The apartment falls quiet save for soft sniffles. A few moments pass before a light knock sounds against your bedroom door and it creaks open. The gentle call of your name cuts through the silence. The sound of Bucky’s voice, low and gentle, inexplicably causes your nose to burn with a fresh wave of tears threatening to fall at any moment. Your lower lip wobbles with barely contained emotion, and you sink your teeth into it in an attempt to steady yourself; ease your heart.

Feet pad softly to the side of the bed, and the mattress groans at the shift in weight as Bucky eases in next to you.

His weight and warmth simultaneously ground you and throw your emotions into overdrive. He is here; chose to be with you over whatever plans awaited him in his bedroom. Gratitude and love awash you, seeping into the deep cracks of your wounded heart. When you most need your best friend he is here, and you are so grateful. A soft whimper slips out despite your efforts and a choked cry escapes your trembling lips.

“Oh, doll.” Bucky’s voice is one of a broken man, heart clenching at the sight of you. He gathers you up in his arms and holds on tightly, a silent promise to never let go. Sobs rack through your chest--the kind that make it hard to breathe--while the soft cotton of his tee crumples under the white-knuckle grip of your fist and hot salty tears soak between your fingers into his shirt.

Bucky presses a kiss to your head, murmuring into your hair, “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He rubs slow, soothing circles into your back. Your whole body shakes beneath his touch as it works to dispel everything you’ve kept pent up inside--pain, heartache, guilt, self-doubt. No longer having the energy to put up a fight, you allow it to happen--let the facade of fine crumble and fall apart in a heaping weepy mess--because Bucky’s arms are warm, strong, and wrapped tightly around you and he’s whispering that he’s got you, that everything will be okay, over and over again. A mantra of a promise that things will be better than in this moment, and maybe they will.

***

You drag in a breath, eyes flickering against the pale light of dawn peeking through the slit of curtains that were not quite pulled all the way shut the night before. There is a dull throbbing in your head and behind your eyes. You groan inward, regretting the decision to drown your sorrows in bourbon and nuzzle closer into the solid warmth in front of you. The familiar mingling mixture of vanilla and cedar infiltrates and seeps deep within your chest, luring you back to the surface of consciousness and away from the depths of dreamless sleep.

Bucky senses your stirring and pulls back just enough to catch a glimpse of your face. His eyes are tired and swimming with concern as they flicker across your face. Your gaze falls to his chest as embarrassment over last night’s episode begins to creep up within you, unable to look him in the eyes. Blood rushes to your cheeks while fingers fidget with the cotton of his shirt and teeth worry at your lower lip. Your tongue feels thick, unsure of what to say. Aching eyes fall shut, heavy, puffy, and red rimmed, you’re sure.

“Hey…” Bucky gently ghosts a thumb across your cheekbone. He ducks his head a little to catch your gaze and your eyes slowly lift to meet his. “What happened?” The timbre of his voice low as he speaks softly, “What had you so upset?”

Earnest concern for you is evident in his tone, etched into his features--it makes your chest tighten. You’re shocked when a fresh wave of unshed tears sting at the back of your eyes, certain you had cried yourself dry through the night. Blinking tears back to clear your vision, you softly shake your head. The facade fractured and exhausting to maintain, you couldn’t do it anymore, energy depleted.

“I- I couldn’t do it anymore,” you finally said, vocalizing your thoughts.

Bucky shifts closer if that’s even possible and his intense gaze that bores through you makes you nervous, like you’re being watched closely under a microscope. His eyebrow twitches in a way that tells you he still doesn’t understand. “Do what anymore?” he breathes out, kind eyes searching yours.

You don't realize a tear has slipped free until Bucky’s thumb drags softly against your cheek to wipe it away. His lips curve downward into a frown and the worry lines in his face prominent, sorrowful. Silence looms between you as he patiently waits for your answer.

A shaky breath is dragged in through parted lips as you work up the nerve to speak the words that have been dying on the tip of your tongue for months now. “I couldn’t watch you bring home another girl… listen to you be--” You swallow hard against the lump in your throat and shake your head, “I just couldn’t do it again.”

Bucky’s brows scrunch together in confusion as he parses through your words. Your name is a gentle utterance from his lips and your watery gaze lifts to meet his once more. The pad of his thumb sweeps across your cheek again and wipes away hot tears that have spilled over. “I don’t--” brows still knit together, he slowly shakes his head.

Burgeoning heartbeats thrum in your chest and pulse in your ears, hands clammy from nerves; your grip tightens around the soft cotton of his tee. “I love you, Bucky.” Your voice is soft, low with reservation of how he may react--but sure; so sure of your feelings for him. “I’m in love with you.”

Eyes widen and his mouth slackens with shock at your admittance, thumb stilling its soothing motion against your cheekbone. Breath is caught in your throat and you anxiously await for any type of response from him aside from the stunned, gaping look his features are contorted in. Your heart sinks further than you thought possible with the prolonged silence hanging heavy between you, and you begin to shift back away from Bucky, away from the creeping humiliation and rejection.

Bucky doesn’t allow for you to move away, his arm underneath you curling up to settle against your back and the other hand still gently cupping the side of your face. Dusky pink lips curl into a slow smile and eyes sparkle with rejuvenated light. Your heart is beating a mile a minute and you attempt to decipher Bucky’s response. Does he think this is a joke? Is the mere idea of you being in love with him that laughable?

An incredulous chuckle, breathy and low, pulls you from your inner thoughts to see Bucky shaking his head. “Oh, doll…” Your heart swells with the unmistakable adoration in his eyes and it fills you with a warmth that allows you to take a steadying breath. Your heart dares to beat with newly ignited hope. Bucky’s eyes dance over your face as if he’s committing every detail of this moment to memory, deep azure eyes and honey gold flecks so pretty in the morning light. His hand smooths down your neck to allow his thumb to brush across your barely parted lips. “I’m in love with you.”

The onslaught of emotion burns through you, simultaneously overwhelming and absolutely wonderful. Tears well in your eyes once more but you can’t bring yourself to care because for once they’re happy tears; elation tears, even. Throat tight with so much you want to say, all you can manage is to choke out a wet laugh. A shaky hand reaches up and your fingers ghost over the dark scruff along his cheekbone and down his jaw. “You love me?”

Bucky’s grin is blinding as he nods ardently. His hand runs down the slope of your neck up to your shoulder, traveling across your extended arm to gently grasp your hand in his. Gingerly he places kisses against your fingertips, murmuring against them. “I love you.”

He shifts closer to you and the rustle of your crumpled bed sheets fills the room. You feel your heartbeat pick up and you’re sure he can feel it, too, with chests pressed so closely together. Bucky’s forehead rests against yours and his eyes fall shut momentarily.

“I’m so sorry,” voice barely above a whisper. You feel the slight shake of his head and he slowly trails a large hand up the column of your neck and rests beneath the jawline. He absentmindedly runs a thumb along the sensitive patch of skin just below your ear in a soothing caress. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t’ve--” his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. “I hurt you so many times… I just-- I didn’t think you felt the same, so I did--” he huffed an indignant sigh. “I was so stupid. Doll, I didn’t--”

You press your lips to his and he’s stunned only for a moment before his lips move gently against yours in response, all soft and pliant.

“I know,” you murmur against his lips, breaking the kiss. Hot breath fans across your skin sending a shiver straight down your spine. Fingers reach out to card through his sleep mussed locks. His scent, his warmth, his love--all encompassing and comforting--it has you on a dizzying high. Nose bumps against his and you tilt your head up to capture his lips once more.

Soft moans pass between lips and Bucky gently eases you onto your back and moves to hover over you, never breaking the kiss, bodies touching in more places than not; you keen at the weight of him pressed against you. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips and you eagerly part them to welcome him in, tongue dancing against yours, deepening the kiss. And god was it a good kiss--the best kiss. The kind that unfurls in your stomach and curls in your toes.

So much warmth floods through you, overflows and seeps into every broken crevice that’s splintered over the past months, beginning the mending of your dilapidated heart. Nourishing it with his touch, the press of his lips, his requited love. You can’t help but smile at the thought, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Bucky. He leans back to better look at you, putting his weight on the forearm settled next to your head. A giddy smile has taken over his features that mirrors the one on your own lips.

“What?” tone mirthful and light.

Your smile stretches wider, “All this time--” your head shakes in disbelief, “...we are idiots.”

Bucky breathes out a hearty chuckle and wraps his arms around you tightly as he falls back against the mattress, bringing you with him. “Well, as long as we’re idiots together.”

You hum in agreement as you curl against his chest with your face nuzzled into his neck, relishing in the scratch of his scruff on your soft skin. Long fingers run through the ends of your hair and mindlessly massage into your scalp, and your heart aches once more; such a beautiful, good ache at the familiarity of his touch, the safety and comfort it brings.

You revel in his closeness--to have him solid and warm and real beneath you; the newfound freedom you have to press your lips to his whenever you wish or to lazily run your fingers across flushed skin that peeks out from underneath his rumpled shirt and feel abdominal muscles flex beneath your touch. It’s a peculiar feeling, this freedom--to love and act on it without reservation; to love and be loved in full in return.

#MarvelfulxbabesWritingChallenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #roommate au #friends to lovers #Renxzs #my fic

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maxineswritingcenter · 5 years

Text

Cinderella AU - Dean x fem!reader

There once was a man, a good man. He loved his family very much, his wife and young daughter, (Y/N). Father and daughter were inseperable, they were the best of friends. After a mysterious illness, his wife died and the man remarried. The woman, Druscilla Tremaine, and her daughters, Anastasia and Drizella, moved into their home. And just as before, the man followed his wife to the grave. This left (Y/N) at the hands of three witches who forced her to clean house and run errands for spell ingredients. What the witches didn't know what that the girl had been learning all these years and had found some magic abilities of her own. There was a meeting of the coven soon, a fabulous party for powerful witches.

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In the darkness of my tiny room I practiced. I practiced and practiced. I practiced by candle light to hide what I was doing. Druzilla, my actual evil stepmother, would literally kill me if she found me doing magic. At any opportunity, I would write down spells of little bits of paper and hide them in a notebook I kept under my bed.

It was early, I could be caught at any moment now. But it wasn't fair. The spell that my step mother was going to use required a life, she was going to be using a field mouse from the backyard. The little thing didn't deserve to suffer. From it's tiny cage, I lifted him out with one hand and fed him a tiny piece of cheese. He held it in his little paws and ate away, not a care in the world.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, gently petting the top of its head. From the table next to me, I grabbed a pinch of chamomile and blew it into the mouse's face.

I took a deep breath and sounded out the spell I heard, "bah rah gah doh." The mouse halted and fell limp. My eyes widened and I panicked. Did I kill it? Do I do something wrong? Pronounce something wrong? I held the little mouse close to my ear, hearing its tiny heart beat. My shoulders relaxed and I put the little mouse back in it's little plastic prison.

"There you go... Sleep now." I whispered. Suddenly loud footsteps thundered down the hall. I quickly took my notebook and shoved it under my bed and blew out the candle. My door opened, blinding me with the light from the hallway.

"Ah, you're awake. Decided to sleep in, did you?" Druscilla looked down at me with her pointed eyes.

"I was up late cleaning up... From your ritual." The ritual where she literally drained a person of their blood to keep her young. The victim was a college girl passing through town. The locals would blame an animal, just like they were spelled to do.

"Well that's no excuse, is it?" She said, putting her hands on her hips.

"No." I said, not looking her in the eyes.

"No, what?"

"No, ma'am."

She humpfed, "That's what I thought. Now get ready. I need that mouse. There are hunters in town and I'll be damned if they find me. Especially before the party." She left the room, slamming the door behind her. I winced at the sound, looking back at the little mouse, still sound asleep.

"What I wouldn't do, little mouse, what I wouldn't do." I sighed and got ready for the day. Hair in a messy bun, t-shirt, jeans, socks, shoes, nothing special. My step monster spent my dad's money on clothes and riches for her and her daughters. Anastasia and Drizella. Anastasia wasn't so bad, she mostly followed the crowd. It was Drizella I had to watch out for. Drizella liked to play with fire, I had the scars on my legs to prove that her spells worked. Nothing like having your pants set on fire in the middle of dinner. I made my way down to the main floor of the house, the little cage in hand. I set the cage down on the alter table and took a deep breath.

"Hey!" A shrill voice made me jump, there in the doorway to the living room was Drizella.

"I thought I told you to iron my dress." She held up the dress that I ironed the previous night, "It's all wrinkled!"

"I did iron it." I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

"Not good enough. Need I remind you of what I can do?" She glared. Soon after Anastasia appeared, plate in hand.

"(Y/N), I'm hungry. Why isn't breakfast ready?" She asked.

"Because she's going to reiron my dress." Drizella snapped at her sister.

"No, she's making breakfast first!" Anastasia whined back. They both started yelling at each other back and forth until their mouths snapped shut with a snap of Druscilla's fingers.

"Now, now, girls, what is all this ruckus?" She eyed me, "(Y/N), what have you done now?"

I shook my head, "I didn't do anything-"

"I see. That explains it then. Well do something. Make breakfast, iron her dress, and then run to the apothecary. I need more ashwood." She grabbed my arm, pushing up my sleeve to show the scar on my arm where she placed a hex bag, "If the shop keep gives you any trouble you know what will happen. And you wouldn't want to hurt him, would you?" I shook my head.

"Good." She dropped my arm and with a flick of her wrist, I was sent towards the kitchen.

The streets were crowded, it was pretty unusual for this tiny town but with the meeting of the coven the town was buzzing. They were also buzzing because of the idea of hunters. Druscilla said hunters were bad, but I didn't think anyone could be as bad as her. I entered the apothecary, just like I did every week. The little bell chimed and I felt safe for the time being. The shopkeep was understanding of my situation and knew what Druscilla could do. The shopkeep was a friendly man. His smile was warm and welcoming. He was tall and usually wore a grey sweater, probably to hide all of his warding tattoos. His business was a dangerous one. I made my way up to the register and smiled.

"I can't find the ashwood, did you move it?" I asked.

He shook his head, "No, I'm afraid that someone put my stock on reserve, they got a big harvest day ritual coming up."

My heart sunk, "But, She need ashwood. I can't go back without it."

He shrugged, "I'm sorry. The client already paid for all of it."

My arm started to burn and so did my eyes, "Please." I gasped in pain, "There has to be something left."

His eyes widened, "Hey now, I told you I don't have any to give Druscilla and you can go tell her that."

My blood started to boil with rage and my breathing became ragged, "Please." I said through gritted teeth.

"I told you no." He said. My rage took over and I snarled, lunging at him over the counter. I took him to the ground, wrapped my hands around his throat. He grabbed my wrists, looking up at me with bulging eyes.

"Stop!" He managed to say.

"I can't!" I growled, pressing harder. His eyes rolled back and his fighting stopped. I found the will to let go and scrambled away from the man, taking off out of the shop.

I made my way to the hardware store, stopping outside to watch as old black Chevy park in front of the Apothecary.

"Tempered ashwood?!" Druscilla screamed and threw the wood planks at me after I presented her with a bag of it from the hardware store. I shielded my head with my arms as they fell down on me.

"You come back here with tempered ashwood?! What am I supposed to do with this?!" She screamed.

"It's all I could find! The apothecary was out!" I shouted back over the sound of her destroying plates that I would have to clean up later.

"Excuses! Always with the excuses, (Y/N)! I have raised you and fed you, kept you off the streets and you give me tempered ashwood?! How ungrateful." She spat. She walked away and went back to her stone alter where Drizella and Anastasia had been watching. She took the little mouse from his cage and shook him a bit with a confused look on his face.

"Why is it sleeping?" She looked down her nose at me.

"I-I don't know." I stuttered.

Druscilla rolled her eyes, "It doesn't matter." She took a sharp knife from the alter and I looked away while she ended the little life in her hand. I looked back after the last of it's blood was drained into a silver bowl. She then, pricked her finger with the knife. Anastasia and Drizella followed, they each let a drop of blood fall into a bowl.

"Cloaking flame, I ignite you. The fire born from blood leaves behind no witch. Now vanish me from the danger's sight. O fire of power and concealment." Druscilla threw some herbs into the bowl and it ignited into a red flame.

"Cloaking flame. That will keep us safe from any hunter that we should come into contact with. As long as this flame burns, they can't see us." Where was that spell when I was hiding from that damn cat, Lucifer.

On cue, the devil cat that I'm sure was spawned from Druscilla appeared. It was a large black cat with unsettling yellow eyes. It strutted past me and towards the alter. Drizella tossed the corpse of the mouse to the cat who caught it in its mouth.

"There's mommy's little helper." Druscilla sighed fondly at him. Lucifer, who didn't meow, but growled back at her.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Druscilla looked at me with a finger pressed to her lips.

"You know what to do." She said. I closed my eyes and stood up. When I opened them I walked towards the door and opened it. On the porch were two tall men, one taller than the other. They were dressed in dress pants and white button downs.

"Is this the Tremaine residence?" The taller one asked.

"Yes." I avoided eye contact, pulling my sleeves down to hide the scar.

"Well, this is Brother Samuel and I'm Brother Dean. We're here from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day saints. May we come in?" The other man with bright green eyes gave me a million dollar smile.

"No." I said.

"Are you sure?" Brother Samuel asked. He had saggy brown hair and hazel eyes that were kind and welcoming, "From what we heard in town the family used to be avid church goers."

"That was before my mother died. My father lost faith. So did I." I quickly looked over my shoulder at the witches then back at the Mormons, "This really isn't a good time." I tried to close the door but the green eyed man stepped forward and held the door open with his foot.

"Ma'am, is everything alright. Are you in some sort of danger?" Brother Dean asked, his eyes scanning over my face like a lazer. I winced when I felt the spell beginning to take it's hold on me.

"Please go." I whimpered, the burning began to take effect in my eyes. Which he seemed to notice because he backed off and smiled.

"Perhaps another time." Brother Samuel said, "Have a nice day." I quickly closed the door, leaning against it and breathing heavily.

"Those must be the hunters." Anastasia said, "They didn't notice us at all."

Drizella smirked, "Mother, may I keep one. The green eyed one got my blood pumping."

"No, no, Drizella. I have a plan for them. Involving..." She looked at me with a smirk, "Our guard dog."

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Tis the beginning of a story based Loosely off of Cinderella, I'm trying my best.

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated!

Read part two here!

If you would like to be tagged in this series, send me an ask!

General tag:

@happy-little-winchester

@hobby27

@somebodyto-love

@beanie-beebo

@vicmc624

@ria132love

@lilulo-12

@teenwaywardasgardian

@tloveswriting

@samros95

@calaofnoldor

#cinderella!au #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural creatures #supernatural reader insert #supernatural imagine #supernatural

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1stunseeliefaelass · 4 years

Text

Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited

Chapter 14: Bad Moon Arising

Morgen froze at hearing Leatherbeard, but then another voice made itself known. This time, Uther was the one to speak up.

"Morgen, I need to speak with you. There's some sort of matter that needs to be addressed. What's wrong Morgen, it's a very simple thing that needs to be taken care of. Follow me."

Morgen feels herself go faint at this and collapses to her knees. Breathing frantically with each moment as Death tries to calm her down.

"Relax relax, it's not him."

"Define him." The original voice from before tells Death.

"For someone who has no business here, you seem to be taking up a lot of our time! So why don't you take whatever you refer to as your ass and FUCK OFF!" Death shouted around the space.

He only gets laughter in response, "How cute....the ant has a backbone. Although, I should've figured...given how protruding it is."

Death draws Harvester as the being taps his spine, "Enough taunts, reveal yourself!"

"If you wish to see me, merely look behind Morgen."

Death does so and sees what seems to be a mummy with ram horns. With ornate jewels that look like eyes embedded and strewn about his head. His cloak is like tattered robes but they still carry an illustrious elegance. Underneath them are black, shadowy tendrils coming out from it. His lips are peeled back, as if someone cut them off to reveal the teeth and gums. The gums themselves are decayed, and rotten, whilst the teeth are sharp and serrated like that of a shark. Just as Death begins to believe he's seen scarier, it gets worse. He looks into the 'eyes', or the sockets where they should be. It's as if he has teeth for eyes, a small mouth in both eyes. They're just as sharp as his 'normal' mouth as well.

"By the Creator." Death says in pure shock. Course he snaps out of it enough to grab Morgen as the crazed being approaches her. Pulling her close to him, Death quickly shouts at the being, "Back the hell away from us!"

Morgen takes the moment to glance back where she was, and sees the same being. Naturally her first reaction is to scream.

Death quickly holds her closer, hiding her face in his chest, "Don't look at him! Just....nngh....", he begins feeling a headache coming on as he tries so hard to find a way out of this situation.

Then he remembers he needs to shock Morgen to wake her up. So he removes his mask and quickly has her look at him before kissing her. The shock of this does in fact cause both of them to wake with an equal amount of panic. Course Death forgets momentarily about his injury. So upon standing to get to Morgen, he ends up collapsing in pain.

"Morgen! Gah!" Death begins to say before collapsing.

"Take it easy, you just fell." War tells him.

"How long was I out?"

"Like two seconds, why?" War inquires him.

"I uh....go check on Morgen."

"Alright." War simply states before doing so.

He finds her breathing heavily and rocking slightly as she hugs a pillow. She sounds almost as if she's crying as well.

"Morgen, are you alright?"

"Who's there?" Morgen asks, quickly trying to hide the fact she was crying.

"What happened?"

"Your brother Death....he should remember." Morgen tells him.

"Well I'll go ask him after I'm done picking him up off the floor." War states.

"What do you mean?! Is he alright?"

"He passed out for like two seconds. Fell face first in fact. Good thing he had protection."

"I heard that you fuckbucket!" Death shouts from a far.

"Shut your mouth Grandpa."

"Says the one armed man." Death retorts as he uses the crutches to get over there. Having been helped up by Merlin.

"At least I don't need the assistance of crutches."

"At least I can walk." Death states before realizing the target is not there, "Oh right, Strife isn't here."

"How hard did hit yourself on your head? Oh nevermind you were already forgetting things, like a Grandpa."

"Alright you whippersnapper, you want an angry Grandpa I'll give you one." Death expresses before trying to smack War with one of the crutches. Hopping on one leg to try and achieve this.

War tries kicking the good leg out from underneath him, only for Death to hop over and even spin somewhat gracefully.

"Nice try eheheh."

War gets annoyed as he gets hit on the head a few by the crutch. Finally he just dodges so that Death falls on his face again.

"You're an ass."

"And you deserved it."

The two then laughed as War helped his brother back up. Seeing the two having their brotherly moment was enough to cheer Morgen up, but Death still felt the need to talk to her.

He walked into the room and sat down on the bed beside her, "So uhm, how are you doing, after all this?"

"Better after having seen that little moment. But I do wish what happened hadn't happened. The only good thing about it really was.....how you got me out of there." Morgen explains whilst trying not to reveal what Death ended up doing.

"May I ask?" War inquired.

"No you may not."

"Thank you though, for coming for me like that." Morgen tells Death whilst her fingers gently brush around his hand a little.

"Technically it wasn't me, it wasn't exactly my choice. But I am glad that I was able to help. How long has this been happening?"

"This is only the second time. The first time I was shunted out on my own, and.......Barrcus was there to help me." Morgen responds a bit solemnly.

"What do you think he is? That 'thing'?"

"I don't know, I've not seen him until now. He keeps calling me Ilona as well. I don't know why he would." Morgen tells him.

"Hmmm....may be something to ask Merlin, or Wiseman. Our current experts on the Dream Realm."

"Maybe so. It's admittedly a bit, scary...to think about the reason as to why he calls me Ilona. I want to know....but at the same time I'm terrified to know."

Death then gently placed his hand beneath her chin, turning her head towards him, "Whatever you end up facing, you won't face it alone. You'll never be alone, ever again."

Morgen's eyes widened at that and the two slowly began inching closer to each other. That is until War immediately interrupted them,

"So when are we going to have breakfast?"

Death turned to him with a glare, "Was having a moment here, and you ruined it."

"I don't understand what you mean by that but, breakfast. And sorry for ruining whatever mood."

Once War walked outside, Morgen helped Death to stand up, "Here, let me help. You might fall again."

"Don't call me old man please."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Morgen told him simply, "Besides, you're too handsome to be called that."

Death was glad for his mask right now, but unfortunately it couldn't hide the redness on his neck. Morgen noticed it too and in a moment of either bravery or possibly a death wish, she pecked him just under his chin. Death gets a confused look, and straightens his back ever so slightly as his chest rises a bit. He spends a moment reading her face quickly, but silently. Checking her for any signs of arousal, and to his relief, that's not what he sees. Instead he sees what seems like a genuine affection in her eyes. Her smile seems to show delight, whilst her body language indicated nervousness. Death ultimately wasn't sure what to do.

"Uhm......thank you? This is honestly the first in a while...."

"I see. Well I hope it was....pleasant at least." Morgen replies a bit nervous.

"It indeed was uh.......just warn me next time...." Death implores of her as he becomes even more red. Even his shoulder are getting a slight shade of it.

Morgen nods simply and decides to get ready behind a partition, leaving Death to ponder to himself a moment.

"You want me to leave or something? As right now it's a little difficult to walk around." Death informs her.

"Oh if you need to sit feel free to head off to breakfast. I'll be fine getting ready alone." Morgen tells him.

"Thank you nnnggh." Death says as he works on making his way out the door slowly.

Death becomes lost in his own head, thinking about the situation. What his own feelings may be after all this. Why she seems to have feelings for him. Course these musings cease when he bumps into Strife by accident.

"Oooof crap."

Strife turns around, and sees just how red his brother is right now, "Glad I'm not the only one having a good morning."

"Shut up, you weren't able to move without my help."

"At least I'm moving like butter." Strife remarks with a smirk.

"Why you little!" Death says about to charge him before Strife just grabs him by the head and shoves him backwards before walking off. Picking up his pace.

Death of course started to hurry after him and in his haste his crutches slip out from under him. He's able to stop himself from falling, but his current position is awkward. He groans in pain and tries righting himself. Only to hurt himself more and finally asking,

"May I by chance get some help?"

"What's the magic word?" Strife inquiries before getting a glare, "Ok that's the magic death glare, but I'll count it."

He then helps Death right himself.

"Thank you."

"Ah you can show some decency." Strife remarks.

"You had it going, for like five seconds." Death tells him.

"And?"

Death just sighs, "Nevermind."

"So, was your morning actually good? Pretty red there."

"It was...decent. And very surprising. And oddly terrifying." Death expresses.

"Has it really been that long?"

"Nothing happened, and.....ugh....." Death begins to explain before getting too embarrassed to speak further.

"So how long was it?"

"The last woman I've ever been with was Wren, and that was ages ago. You were in your late adolescentcy at the time, if that gives you any inclination." Death states.

"I've heard of plugging it for a long ass time but DAMN. Is that why you're so cranky?"

"You do realize I could kill you at any moment." Death tells him.

"Dude, I know you better, don't even try. Besides, with you all messed up, I'd like to see far you'd get."

Death just grumbles as he follows Strife to get breakfast.

Meanwhile at Uther's castle, Barrcus was doing remarkably well for his circumstances. Even with several baby nerve enders all over him, they meant nothing to him. A man suffering through physical pain everyday of his life, and nothing could ever top the emotional and mental pain of seeing Morgen suffer. He'd never voice that aloud however, in case it gave Uther ideas. As Barrcus mused to himself with Uther shouting at him for answers.

"Just tell me where Death is and I'll put an end to all this madness!"

"Yes, and replace it with another." Barrcus retorted simply.

As Uther was about to apply more pressure to the nerve enders, Leatherbeard came on down. When seeing Barrcus he actually looked shocked.

"I never thought there was anything I wouldn't eat or fuck. Guess I found it."

"Feelings mutual, too many of the stds and scabs." Barrcus stated sarcastically.

"Be that as it is, I'm here for Uther." Leatherbeard replied unphased.

Uther sighed and looked at him, "What do you require of me Leatherbeard, make it quick. I'm already in a bad mood."

"Seeing how you've been in a sour mood for some time, perhaps we should destress you. Find you a good time as it were. I know you won't have just any girl, or anyone, so a tavern won't do. But...."

"GET ON WITH IT!" Uther shouts at him.

"BUT......there's always the gladiatorial arena you put up some years ago. How long has it been since you've watched a good fight? I know you always enjoyed seeing the fights in the ring. Be it between men, or beasts, or sometimes even a mix."

Uther taps his chin as he considers the idea. Barrcus just watches him a bit curiously. After a time he finally decides on something, "Very well. I shall...humor, this idea. I need new inspiration for dealing with this traitor anyway."

"That's the spirit my liege. We'll get that zeal in your step in one way or the other. Now let's leave le fou to his current fate. Give him time to prepare for an even worse one." Leatherbeard declared with enthusiasm.

With that both men left, and Barrcus looked out the window of his cell. Thoughts of Morgen and Mina keeping him going all the while. He could only hope for the best for them both. Finally he decided to send a message to them somehow. Calling upon Merlin first through telepathy, to ask for help in the matter. Hoping one of his spiders is still there. Luckily there is one left, in Puck's scarf. It slowly crawls out and scares the crap out of poor Puck.

"What the fuck?!" He screams jumping up.

The spider only waves before laughing in Barrcus' voice and telling Puck, "Such a funny Satyr. Now I need to speak with the others."

"Ok the spider's talking. And it sounds like Barrcus, and it's talking, great." Puck groans whilst looking at the bottle of boose he'd been drinking. "I need to stop experimenting."

The spider hops up in annoyance, "Just get me to the others for fuck's sake!"

"Ok ok, calm yer......eh....legs? No that sounds stupid. Ah hmm...."

"PUCK!"

"Ok ok ok, jeez." Puck says before rushing the spider to the main hall.

Once there they both saw everyone partaking of breakfast. Course everyone looks at Puck as he nervously begins trying to explain himself.

"Talking spider, and he's really mad at me."

"Puck you need to stop experimenting. One of these days you'll make yourself go insane." Death remarks sarcastically.

That is until the spider hops onto the table and walks over to Death, "You're right about him needing to stop experimenting. But wrong about thinking he's insane, at least at this moment."

Death immediately jumps, having not expected that. Everyone else, aside from Morgen and Mina, does the same as Death grabs around his ankle. Having accidentally hit it against the chair he was in.

"Woah.....gah! The spider is actually talking what the fuck?!" Death shouts in confusion and pain.

"See I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy!" Puck yells at him.

As Death continued to hold his ankle, hissing in pain, the spider tilted itself as if confused, "May I ask what happened?"

"Leatherbeard shot a harpoon through my achilles tendon. It's taking it's sweet time healing."

"Then why not ask for assistance?" Barrcus asks him.

"I can mend it on my own. It's just taking a while."

"We don't really have much time to waste. You need to be in peak condition much sooner, preferably sometime today." Barrcus insisted.

"And how do you propose I achieve that hmm?"

"Morgen is always eager to help. Why not ask her, politely, to heal you?"

Death sighs in annoyance, "You enjoy being vexxing don't you?"

"As if you don't enjoy it yourself."

Death's eye twitched but he swallowed his pride and looked to Morgen, "Would you be so kind as to help me out with this?"

"I'll certainly do my best." Morgen tells him calmly.

"Wait a minute how are you calm right now?"

"I'm used to him doing this, as is Mina." Morgen explains.

The spider then walks over to Morgen, who lets him onto her hand, "I'm here to let you know I'm doing fine. As Uther's torture methods are very lacking."

"That's a relief for sure. But it's not entirely calming given you're still over there. If you have a plan of escape, we'd much like to hear it."

"Currently devising one. Uther is at the colosseum at this moment. He'll be away for a while, so I can try to explain where I am. Which I imagine is easy to figure out now." Barrcus explains.

"Quite, considering that I'm pretty sure you're in a cell. Likely one within Uther's dungeon as well." Death remarks.

"Correct. However, it won't be easy like last time. You'll have to be cautious. That means I DON'T WANT ANY HEROICS. From either of you." Barrcus states whilst looking at both of them before turning back to face Morgen again, "As a matter of fact I'd prefer it if you'd just stay here."

"I can fight Barrcus, you've seen it yourself." Morgen protests.

"Fighting on its own is easy, but doing so whilst using magic is harder. You're more well versed in magic than in melee. Until you can use them in tandem with each other, I'd prefer you remained somewhere safe."

Morgen sighs saying, "Barrcus, Mina and I have been worried sick. Surely there's something I can do to help. You're always helping me, protecting me to the best of your ability. I want to return the favor, to repay all my debts by making sure you're safe as well. I owe you so much Barrcus, and you know it."

"Morgana, I want you safe. More than anything right now. Knowing you and Mina are somewhere safe has been keeping my spirits up in this time. Please, just remain in safety, my little Moonbeam."

Morgen sat back and went slack in her seat as Barrcus called her that. It had been so long since he'd last done so, and she was still a little girl then. Death thought back for a moment as he looked at Morgen's reaction. He couldn't help but wonder how C was currently doing. He hadn't seen her, Wren, or Ale around lately. He decided he'd ask Titania about where they were. Course Morgen's next words caught his attention again.

"You....haven't called me that in so long. Why now?"

"Because I find it to be most appropriate now. I'll do anything to keep you safe, as I promised your Mother. You're all I have left of her, and I'm.....desperate. I don't want to lose you as I did her. Nor do I want you to risk anymore suffering just to save me. Promise me you'll stay out of it, please."

"I......I can't.......Barrcus...." Morgen struggles to say before Mina takes over.

"I'll watch her Barrcus. I'll do all I can for her and then some. I swear it."

"Good. Now, onwards to what is going on. I saw Leatherbeard in the city, he's a bit more jovial than usual. May I ask why?"

Death and Strife both groan at the same time.

"He has my blood, and Miriam's." Death then tells him.

"Who's Miriam?"

"A friend of mine and as far as I can tell, she and Strife have been seeing each other. So there's that as well."

"He got Miriam's when she broke through a window of the city library to escape him. She left a whole trail as well. He got Death's through the harpoon to his achilles tendon." Strife adds on whilst cuddling Miriam.

Miriam is naturally a bit spooked about the talking spider. She's used to being small, so spiders that can talk freaks her out more than an average one would. Course a few more then make themselves known in the room, leaving the poor thing petrified as she huddles into Strife. Course everyone else is a bit spooked themselves.

Barrcus meanwhile sighed and the spider facepalmed as he did so, "Right, of course. Ugh. So most likely Leatherbeard can still track you down. Given your complete scent is within your blood."

"Well shit." Death mutters under his breath.

"I'd advise you to handle that bayou dwelling Wereshark first. Then we can plan for a way to get me out of here. My spiders shall remain for when you're ready or if I should need to warn you." Barrcus tells them.

Meanwhile, Uther and Leatherbeard were actually enjoying themselves for the most part. Course Uther couldn't help but shake his head at the pirate's massive enthusiasm.

"BITE HIS EAR OFF! TWIST HIS DICK AND RIP IT OFF! COME ON! HE WAS WIDE OPEN!"

"Uuuugh.....your 'enthusiasm' as always, is quite appreciated." Uther told him.

"Good to know. RIP HIS FUCKING DICK OFF COME ON! YOU CALL YOURSELVES WARRIORS!? COME ON I CAN FIGHT BETTER IN MY SLEEP!"

Uther facepalmed at this, and then felt a tap on his shoulder. He saw a young maiden with two baskets, one with food, the other gold, "Greetings good King Uther. I have brought up only the juiciest grapes, the finest cheeses, and the best cuts of meat for you. Truly they are snacks fit for a king such as you. I also come by with our betting basket. The match coming up will be quite a showstopper, I assure you. A young feral werewolf against a few veterans of the arena. Sounds like quite the show yes, perhaps you'd be interested in betting on it?"

Leatherbeard immediately turns his head towards the basket girl, then to Uther, "You got a werewolf?"

"Yes we got one some time back." Uther states simply.

"You better switch out your contestants, I'm going in." Leatherbeard declares whilst grabbing his jacket from his chair.

"Uhm....my good Captain are you sure about this? The boy's got no control. He's truly as feral as it gets." The maiden asks him.

"Hahahah, all the better. Mon cher, feral or not, that boy will learn who da alpha is. They all do." Leatherbeard says whilst holding her chin before heading into the arena.

Uther actually smirks and decides he'll bet after all, "Ten thousand gilt on my friend here."

The maiden then bows as Uther places the gilt in through an inventory crystal and walks away. Leaving only the basket of food for him. Uther takes a bite of a grape just as the announcer comes back around.

"Nevermind on the original coming match, we apparently have a change in contestants! Our dear beloved champion ARN THE RIPPER VS CAPTAIN LEATHERBEARD!"

The crowds cheer with a pure uproar, shocked and excited to the captain. He listens to crowd and begins shouting at them, "I can't hear you! I CAN'T HEAR YOU! BRING IT UP HAHA!"

Meanwhile Arn listened to the crowd as it welcomed this new challenger into the ring of blood and dirt. He heard them chant his name again and again, "Leatherbeard, Leatherbeard, Leatherbeard", as he waited in his cell. Finally the man of the hour his "master" came in and unlocked the door.

"You're facing someone new, he's a feared man and close to the King. So at least try to last.", He says as the fat mass of a man unlocked Arn's chains from around his wrists and the silver lined collar around his neck.

"Sounds like someone important, his mother know he's about to get his ass kicked?", Arn manages to say as he's practically shoved out and towards the rack of awaiting weapons.

"I would watch my tongue boy. This man isn't the lions you killed last week, he's a fucking monster. Just give em a good show and try not to die. You're worth nothing dead.", The master says

Arn had heard those words a thousand times now, and he got sicker each time he heard it. He had plenty of daydreams of driving one of these hunks of junk into that fat-ass' neck and ripping the throat out of his lapdog, the one who enjoyed taking flesh off his bones with that whip. Sadly he had bigger fish to fry, namely this Leatherbeard. Arn took up an axe and a sword before he gave his masters an unsavory look, one they had grown accustomed to at this point. The gates creaked open finally as Arn growled to the crowd cheering his name, "Ripper, Ripper!" They shout as he enters the ring and faces his opponent, he actually snickers under his breath.

"Something funny Ripper?", Leatherbeard asks him

"Just think you need to fire your barber, clearly he took more than your beard.", Arn responds with a chuckle

Leatherbeard chuckled with him darkly, "Eheheheheh...funny."

Arn and Leatherbeard begin to circle eachother as the crowd calms a little. Arn then growls as his body starts to shift, the various bones and muscles flexing, expanding, and tearing as they take on a more beastial shape. Arn's face elongates into a snout, his teeth sharpen and grow long, followed by his eyes glowing a crimson color. His body is also covered in ebony black fur. Arn then let's out a guttural roar before snarling and baring his teeth at this guy, who doesn't seem to be phased by it. Arn is the first to strike with his sword connecting with the man's prosthetic arm but his axe follows up with an attack to his face. Leatherbeard somehow dodge the strike to his face, despite Arn clearly feeling it connecting.

Leatherbeard then turns his prosthetic into his anchor before launching it at Arn, who manages to dodge as it connects with the wall behind him. Leatherbeard retracts it, only to have Arn come up behind him and strike multiple times at his arm and body. Leatherbeard may have rough skin but he is certainly feeling the force behind each blow.

He attempts to say something witty only to feel an small twinge of pain in his shin. It takes him a while for his brain to register it as pain, but it's at that moment he realizes Arn slammed the back of his axe into his shin.

Leatherbeard in response tells him with a grunt, "Good hit."

Arn then drives his blade through his open mouth through the back of his throat, Arn gets a smirk on his muzzle as he sees a little trickle of Leatherbeard's blood run down the length of his blade.

Course aside from the cheers of the crowd Arn hears something else, laughter from his opponent. Leatherbeard laughs louder as he realizes he's in the shadow of the arena. Namely against the wall as Arn forced him there with his flurry of blows. Arn watches as Leatherbeard's mouth and body take on a more monstrous form. One with several rows of teeth and skin like a tough rubber. Arn immediately gets out of biting range as Leatherbeard snaps his jaws and breaks the blade in two. Arn snarls as Leatherbeard spits out the blade shards and droplets of his own blood.

"I'll give you this...it has been a while since I've seen, much less tasted my Blood...too bad I gotta beat yer ass. Now come on Pup, heheh!", Leatherbeard says as his blacked out eyes focus on the ebony furred Arn.

Arn simply snarls in response, before he notices Leatherbeard's arm take the form of a flintlock handgun. Arn somehow manages to dodge the gunfire and get behind a pillar but he's officially on the defensive as Leatherbeard goes on the attack. Arn manages to get an opening after dodging the mix of gunfire and even a cannon blast.

'How many guns does that fish bastard have?!'

He doesn't get his answer as he once again has to dodge the anchor as it takes out the pillar he is behind. Arn does take cover but gets an idea, he let's Leatherbeard take out the other remaining pillars kicking up a massive dust cloud. Leatherbeard is irritated by the dust and has to cover his eyes. When the dust starts to settle he notices a glimpse of movement with his electromagnetic sense. Leatherbeard exposes his head as he launches his anchor towards what he noticed. The dust settles enough that he sees it's just a pile of rubble. Arn then takes this opening and launches himself at Leatherbeard, his axe connecting with the top of his head. Arn is very surprised when the axe breaks from its haft and launches itself into Uther's box. The blade embedding itself in a post next to his seat and just above his head.

Leatherbeard let's out another laugh as Arn looks at his axe in disbelief.

Leatherbeard then kicks Arn in the gut and grabs his head before smashing him into the dirt.

Laughing as Arn lays in the dirt, "Ha! Real cute!"

Arn eventually manages to raise himself up on his hands and knees. Leatherbeard grabs Arn by his scruff and lifts him up to eye level.

"Anything to say, Ripper?", Leatherbeard asks with a sadistic smile on his face.

Arn looks at him in his blackened orbs and responds, "Die."

Leatherbeard can't react fast enough to Arn ramming a blade shard into one of his vulnerable eyes. The wound begins gushing blood as Arn drives the blade shards all the way into the socket. Leatherbeard shouts in pain, excitement, and ecstasy as Arn uses his free hand to reach and grab the exposed meat of his gills, on the left side of his neck. Leatherbeard starts feeling pain like he hasn't in a long time. It only solidifies when Arn puts both his feet into Leatherbeard's chest then kicks off his body, ripping the gills from his neck, and his hand free from Leatherbeard's eye. Thus leaving him with two grievous injuries. The pain lasts long enough that Arn can break free from Leatherbeard's grasp as he cuts his open throat. Arn is breathing heavy as that took a lot of energy, not to mention he hurts like hell. He is surprised even more when Leatherbeard's wounds heal over. The dull thud of the blade shard hitting the dirt is heard as Leatherbeard's eye is back, like it never got punctured. It is the same with the gills on his neck. Leatherbeard laughs sadistically as he readies to finish this petite merde off. His eyes completely whiting out as they rolled back. A sign that the frenzy has started. At this rate, Uther realizes his champion may be screwed.

"DINGLEBERG ENOUGH!" Uther shouts standing in his booth.

Leatherbeard snaps his head around so fast you'd think he'd have broken his neck, "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

Arn could only laugh, "Dingleberg?! Are you serious?!", only to get slammed in the face by the anchor.

"Real professional, now get your ass up here. Your fight gave me idea, and we need to discuss it." Uther says unphased.

Leatherbeard then angrily turns his anchor back into a hand and walks off grunting. The crowd that was laughing a moment ago, is completely silent. They don't want to start a massacre by angering him further. Arn is then dragged off to the side by his 'master'.

"Ugh....at least you made it somewhat of a spectacle."

"I can't......feel anything." Arn groans as he turns back.

"Well you did get an anchor to the face so...." The fat man states shrugging a bit.

Arn groans somemore as he's dragged back to his cell. The collar and chains are replaced where they should be before the door is shut. From there Arn is forced to try and rest off the unfeeling in his body, whilst being partially suspended. He then hears the voices of his 'master' and the King.

"I...uh what brings you down here?"

Uther only responded simply, "I need to speak with your champion."

"Wasn't really much of a champion out there was he? Eheheh....." The man says before Uther gets in his face.

"That child has killed more men and beasts than half the gladiators in your repertoire. If I say he is a champion, then that is WHAT HE IS. Am I clear on that? Or shall I let Leatherbeard use you to blow off some steam? You have plenty of meat on your bones I reckon." Uther expresses in a dangerously calm tone.

The man can only gulp before he backs away in pure fear, "O-o-of c-course, your m-m-majesty. R-r-right this way, his cell is actually right next to us."

Arn smirks at the man pissing himself as he hears Uther approach his cell. Next comes a rapping upon the heavy door.

"Are you still awake by chance?"

"Nnnnnngh.....Depends on what you mean by awake." Arn manages to say.

"You speaking is a good enough sign. As that is what I need to do with you."

"What does a King want with a random nobody?"

"What I want," Uther began slightly annoyed, "is to propose a job. A task of upmost importance. I'm willing to reward you for a job well done."

"I'm listening to ya golden head." Arn states sarcastically.

The 'master' then slams his fist on the door, "Silence you! Ehehehe...sorry about that your majesty."

"Hmph, I like his spirits. Let's see how well he listens.", Uther begins before turning back towards the door to address Arn, "Now, my daughter Morgana has taken off recently. And she took my dear son with her as well. I want you to help bring them to me alive. As for the man who helped my daughter flee, I'd like him dead. Everything clear to you?"

"Loud and clear for the most part. But my question is, who the fuck is supposed to die? And why did she run away?" Arn inquired.

"That is none of your concern. For if you complete your task correctly, you will gain your freedom."

Arn's eyes widened as he imagined seeing his Mama Esmie again, "You mean....I can...go home?"

"Yes my boy, you can return home. I'll even ship you out to wherever you wish to go. I only have one caveat, Leatherbeard will be keeping an eye on you. You answer to whatever he tells you to, unless it's something I told him NOT TO DO. I will discuss it with him after we're done here. Assuming we have a deal that is."

Arn thought to himself for a moment, but one moment was all he needed, "Deal."

"Good boy. Now let's see about getting you out of this cell. And into a proper set of armor. Oh course you'll need a true weapon as well." Uther stated in a sickly sweet tone of voice.

Arn however didn't notice his tone, all he cared about was the promise of going home.

In the meantime the others had begun to discuss their plan to deal with Leatherbeard.

"We're going to need help with this 'Leatherbeard'. Given that he managed to fuck up two of us. Perhaps another werebeast?" Fury poses.

"And where do we find one?" War asks her.

"Yeah, especially one that's sane?" Strife adds on.

Death however spoke up in defense of Fury, "It's actually a good idea. In fact, it probably helps that I know a guy."

#Darksiders Fandom #Darksiders Fanfics #Darksiders OCs #Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited #Death #Strife #War #Fury

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razorblade180 · 5 years

Text

Scrappy

[Lasting Embers universe]

Deep in the forest of of Menagerie an obstacle course as been set up for a group of individuals; all of them in black cammo pants and form fitting black t-shirts. Men and women crawling under wire, balance beams sprints, monkey bars, and worst of all a rope. This extended 75ft in the air with a bell that few can reach; including a sixteen year old white tiger faunus that was currently covered in mud.

Ilia:Come on rookie!!!!! You’re not even half way up there yet and I can tell you’re drenched and about to pass out. If you can’t do this then I don’t even know why you bothered showing up to boot camp!!!

Sienna:*inching up* Come on Sienna, you got this. So what if you’re tired? Doesn’t change the distance or the goal, just....keep....climbing.

Various recruits scream various things that are both positive and negative as instructed. Others toss small mud balls to add to the difficulty.

“You can do it!”

“Just fall already!!!!”

“Give it up runt! You’re the smallest here.”

“Show him what you’re made of!”

“Miner kid....”

That one caught her attention. She looked to her right to see a smug recruit on the ground staring at her with his red eyes. He was a stocky and in his early twenties. Brown hair and a scar across his face were all that really made him look interesting. Sienna would’ve gave him another one if she was allowed to.

Sienna:Of course Damon is trying to shoot me down. *climbs harder*

Damon:Aww don’t ignore me. Did I say something rude miner? That word should mean nothing to you right. *chucks mud ball*

Sienna:*blocks it* Fuck off......

Ilia:Language! You all might be thugs and mercenaries at heart but that doesn’t mean you get to act like it. Being apart of The Shadows means-

Recruits:Using ruthless lifestyle skills to uphold the honest living of others.

Ilia:I will give you all 50 more laps if you do that again.

Damon:That little mission statement is fine and all but does that even apply to kitty over here? Last time I checked this organization is supposed to have the most lethal people around and here we have a kid that doesn’t even a semblance. Can’t even smoke.

Sienna:Considering how my scores are better than yours, me not having a semblance should make you feel happy; it give you a chance to keep up with me. If breathing is still possible for you; might wanna quit while you can Mr. Mercenary.

Damon:*grits teeth*

Ilia:If you can talk then you can climb! Hurry up before I start chucking mud at you myself.

She did as she was told and picked up the pace as best as she could. Her arms felt like fire and the mud drying on her wasn’t helping. By the half way point things were slightly better; dodging mud was easier when none could travel that high up. Until one actually did make that far and landed right on her face; smacking her off the rope like if a baseball hit her.

Recruits:*catch her* Are you okay?

Sienna:Ow....what was up with the mu- *picks it up*

It’s as dense as a literal baseball and perfectly round for a moment before falling apart like normal mud. Her icy blue dart towards Damon as he tries not laugh; the recruits back up as they notice her pupils slowly get more cat like as they hear a low growl.

Damon:What’s wrong kitty cat? You seem a bit a bit ruffled. I’m just trying to bring out the best in you; a person with no semblance should work twice as hard to even get close enough to the same skill as someone who does. Think of it as real life experience.

Sienna:*gets up* The nurses will get real life experience stitching you up when I wrip out your-

Ilia:Enough! Both of you.

Sienna:Me!? But he’s the one who-

Ilia:Sienna, just walk away. I will handle this myself now go hit the showers.

Sienna:......*walks away frustrated*

Damon:That’s it? I expected more from you. I guess being oppressed and underground for so long made you used to being beneath others. Anyone else here would at least try putting me in my place. You however, I guess your just a runt after all. Bet your family pulled your weight in the mines.....

Sienna’s footsteps immediately stopped and pivoted around. Before Ilia could even register what was about to happen it was too late. The young Shadow in training was already passed her and swiping at the older man with close out and dangerously sharp. Each attack filled with rage as they failed to connect with her target that was reading her like a play book with ease. If she was thinking then it would’ve been clear a match with a seasoned mercenary wasn’t going to be some walk in the part. A quick jab to her nose and a foot ramming into her ribs made the message clear with obvious pain now shooting through her. His boots felt like straight steel.

Damon:Oh so you do have fighting spirit? Or at least try to that is....

Sienna:I’LL SHOW YOU FIGHTING SPIRIT!!!! *leaps at him*

Damon:*catches and throws her* Geez you’re like a rag doll. Light and totally flimsy. *puts boot on her* I’ll admit you have guts but that’s about all you-gah!!!!

Sienna:*clawing his leg* Do you ever shut up? Your voice is hurting my ears.

She manages to get her right leg in between both of his and wrap it around the punks leg from behind; her left leg does the same but wraps around the front of it like a vice. All of her wait is focused on driving her legs to the ground, causing the man to fall and put into a leg lock. Bone and muscle can be heard through the painful grunts from both fighters.

Sienna:I’ll break it, I swear I will.

Damon:*smiles* I believe you....

Suddenly the ground below them gets harder as he raises his pinned leg and slams it against the ground. Sienna’s head smacks the floor hard, everything gets blurry. Then everything got dark.....

[Oasis]

Jacquelyn:*watering flowers* hmmm hmm🎶

Jael:*running*Moooooom!

Jacquelyn:Hey there sweetheart *picks her up* why are you running? You know it’s dangerous for you.

Jael:Mom, I’m ten years old. I know my limits *pouts*

Jacquelyn:I know you’re upset right now but your pudgy cheeks are too adorable to take you seriously. *hugging her*

Jael:Agh, you’re squeezing too tight! I was running because you have a call!!!! *holds up scroll.* stop leaving your scroll around.

Jacquelyn:I got a call? That’s rare *answers* Hello, Jackie Frost speaking. Oh hi Ilia!!! How is training the-.....

Jael:???

Jacquelyn:SHE’S WHAT!?

[Infirmary]

Boot camp was a lot of things, unprepared wasn’t one of them. You don’t get together some of the most aggressive people the world has to offer without proper medical care. Breaking without consequences is another thing that isn’t tolerated as Sienna is learning. Only moments ago did she wake up to find herself with bandages around her head and in a hospital bed; also her left arm handcuffed to it. Everyone was about to be treated to a loud scream from the girl who wanted answers but thankfully Ilia walked in before Sienna got the chance.

Ilia:Well look who’s finally awake? The troublemaker herself.

Sienna:ME!? I- ow...*holds her head*

Ilia:Woah there...*leans her back* Try not to scream or move around idiot. Concussions don’t like those things.

Sienna:N...noted, damn that Damon. Slamming me into mud wasn’t good enough; he had to make it hard as stone. I wouldn’t be surprised if the fall off the rope caused this either.

Ilia:I hear you blaming Damon but yet not yourself. This could’ve been avoided if you walked away. He was already gonna be punished but you had to escalate the situation didn’t you?

Sienna:But-

Ilia:No buts Sienna!

Sienna:.......

Ilia:In a mission you are expected to follow orders to the letter without hesitation. No matter what he said about you, disobeying me was the wrong call. Again and again your temper clouds your judgement; can you guess how many times I’ve seen you get into a fight.

Sienna:.......are we counting my whole life or just boot camp?

Ilia:Sigh......I think I should opt you out of Shadow training.

Her blood went cold at those words. If it wasn’t for the concussion, Sienna would’ve been shaking her head in denial and protest.

Sienna:You....you can’t do that. I’ve passed all tests, making the grades, honing my skills, I-

Ilia:You are young and hot headed. Not to mention filled with so much potential to do anything with your life. Damon is right about you not being like everyone else. Yes you’ve seen the worst of what this world has to offer since you were six but only as a victim. These people are used to being the thieves, spies, and murderers. Hands like yours shouldn’t be tainted like that. Especially when your family-

Sienna:Foster family...... I love them but that title is very important to me; it separates the past from the present. Also, are you forgetting I already have one person’s blood on my hands? *stares at them*

Ilia:That was self defense.

Sienna:Don’t care, they’re dead and I have to live with it. Those mines.....those stupid isolation rooms and “treatment’ programs. *clenches teeth* No way I could just go live some ordinary life after that. I’m only alive because clung to it and killed the part of me that could’ve lived normally. Guess in that phrasing then it means I killed two people that day. If I become a Shadow then I can stop horrible people from causing pain before they get the chance. I can stop more people like me from being shaped by such trauma. So please.... *tears up* don’t take me out the program. It’s my dream.

Ilia:.....I-

“Let her stay”

Both of them look towards the door to see Adam standing there with his arms crossed and learning against the door frame. Instantly Sienna’s ears and head drop down in guilt; upset with herself for causing such a mess that the leader of the whole organization swooped by.

Ilia:Shouldn’t you be laying low and doing paperwork?

Adam:Everyone here is sworn to secrecy and it’s not like those papers are going anywhere. *walks forward* Sienna......

Sienna:*Looking away* Yes sir......?

Adam:What’s with the formalities? It’s just us in here. Let’s try this again *slowly turns her head* Sienna.....

Sienna:.....Yeah dad?

Adam:It’s starting to feel like we see each other during lectures than at dinner.

Sienna:Maybe because you’re not home half the time....

Adam:Fair point, but you get what I’m saying right? Take it from me, short tempers get you into nothing but trouble that could’ve avoided entirely.

Sienna:It’s just....all the things he kept saying I....I can’t stand being weak. I’m the youngest there, no semblance, and completely wet behind the ears like he said. Still, I hate how he looked down on me. I know my grades should speak for themselves but they don’t.

Adam:I see, respect is what you wanted. Validation of all the effort you’ve put in. Tell me, is something like that really worth it from someone like him? Not only is he also a recruit but his scores are lower than yours despite his advantages. Do you know why?

Sienna:I want it more than he does.

Adam:Precisely, in this world you got so far by having a hunger to keep going like no one else; it was press on or lay dead on the bloody floor. Not many can do what you did at such a young age. As far as I’m concerned he’s right about not being like the rest; you’re better.

Sienna:*red*.......

Adam:Not to mention you got a pretty big heart that genuinely wants to help the best way it knows how. As a parent the path you’ve chosen scares me, but as your future boss I hope when I’m long gone that someone like you can continue keeping things on the straight and narrow. Before all that though you still need to graduate. How will you do that?

Sienna:*takes a breath* Following orders.....and learning to keep calm like Ilia says. I’m sorry dad.

Adam:I’m not the one who needs an apology.

Sienna:Ilia, I’m sorry for being such a handful. May I please stay in the program?

Ilia:......You’ll be on leave for two weeks. Just enough time for all the work you’re gonna miss to be annoying; also enough time to put you through horrific drills after your head heals. But yes you can stay. One day for sure I’m gonna make a fine Shadow out of you.

Sienna:*smiles* There’s not a doubt in my mind you will ma’am!

Ilia:Ugh, I feel so old when you say that. By the way your punishment begins now; I called your mom.

Sienna:You did wha-

Jacquelyn:*runs through door* Sienna!!!! Oh thank goodness you’re okay and- *gasp* Is that my darling husband!?

Sienna:Wow mom, I feel the love and concern right now...

Jael:*runs in* Sissy!

Sienna:Hey there kiddo! Oh I’ve missed you while I was at camp.

Jael:*sits on bed* Well maybe if you wrote letters then you’d miss me less. You’re as bad as Father!

Adam:Ouch.....right here.

Jael:*smiles* I know, why is my sister handcuffed?

Sienna:Don’t worry about it. I was misbehaving and they had to.

Jael:Hmph! That’s dumb...

Jael grabs the chain and squeezes tight. Soon after, her hand glows and she snaps snaps it easily. Sienna is amazed every time she sees her little sister discover how to use her semblance. Gravity control is a very useful thing to have.

Jael:All better! Whoever did that to you has to face me!

Ilia:It was me you little rascal.

Jael:Aunt Ilia? Fine, I meant went I said! *puts fists up*

Sienna:Looks like I’m not the only one with fighting spirit.

Ilia:I hope she doesn’t have an explosive temper like her big sis. *smiles* the world isn’t ready for that.

Adam:I’ll say, me or the world isn’t ready for that force of nature yet.

Jael:Please, like I’ll ever be as hot head as you two. I’m as cool as they come.

[six years later, hospital]

Sienna:*watching over a comatose Adam* If you don’t head out soon you’ll miss your boat to Beacon.

Jael:I’m leaving now. *opens door*

Sienna:Jael......don’t do anything reckless you hear me? You’re as cool as they come remember?

Jael:.......I thought I was. *leaves*

Sienna:I don’t know if you can hear me dad but please watch over her. Guess I wasn’t a very good role model.

Nothing was said after that, it wasn’t like she expected a response anyway. She began to close her eyes and hold her hands together. Sienna was never one to pray often, but this was too important to take any chances with. Selling her own wouldn’t be a bad price to pay if she could.

Sienna:Please.....don’t let her end up like me or the rest of us. Keep her hands clean....

#rwby #adam taurus #jacquelyn frost #sienna frost #jael frost #ilia amitola #my oc’s

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kagehinataboke · 6 years

Note

todobaku - AU13 (demon!todoroki and angel!bakugou if you like) - situation9 - sentence7 (said by bakugou if possible)

absolutely darling!! ^-^

from the prompt list, todobaku with demon!Todo x angel!Baku au, playing a game together, and “You’re too distracting with your handsome face and… your… everything!”

the amount of heaven/hell puns i made in this should be illegal

Katsuki doesn’t make a habit of associating with demons. They’re all shifty bastards and they always have ulterior motives, which pisses him off. He’s not perfect by any means, but he’s still leagues above those scummy hellions. That’s why he stays away from them at all costs—or, at least, why he used to.

Shouto catches him like a fly in a trap. Katsuki is off doing his job—perfectly, as usual—when he runs into him. It’s nearing midnight, and he’s supposed to be performing a simple matchmaking thing—but this bastard gets in the way, as most demons tend to do incredibly well. He rams straight into Katsuki when he’s about to land, sending them both rolling across the pavement in a tangle of wings and limbs.

“What the—“ Katsuki barely stops himself before swearing. The last thing he needs is another warning from up high. “Get off me,” he growls instead, pushing the demon away roughly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I didn’t fly into you on purpose,” the demon says calmly, using his wings to right himself. His dark, mismatched eyes focus on Katsuki’s face, sending a chill down his spine. “You’re bleeding.”

“Because you ran into me!” he fumes, slowly regaining his composure. Holding back the barrage of swears filtering through his head is becoming increasingly difficult. “What’s a guy like you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have things to mess up somewhere else?”

“For your information, I’m currently not associated with Hell,” the demon replies evenly. “And the name’s Shouto.” He dusts himself off, tearing off a long strip of black fabric from his jacket and holding it out to him. “Here, for your wound.”

Katsuki snatches it hesitantly, pressing it carefully to the rip in his wing. “Fuck… I can’t fly like this.” He flinches as soon as the swear leaves his mouth, but there’s unexpectedly no sting of punishment.

“They can’t punish you for anything if I’m here.” Shouto is looking at him with an amused smile. “You’re not like most angels I’ve met. You’re angry, and you like to curse.”

“I said one fucking swear!” he growls, covering his mouth immediately afterward. “Oops… That doesn’t prove anything!”

“Pft…” Shouto laughs: a surprisingly light sound. “I like you. You’re really interesting.” He grins. “Hey… do you want to play a game with me?”

“What are you, a toddler?” Katsuki deadpans. “I shouldn’t even be talking to the likes of you.” But for some reason, he doesn’t try to leave. He’s never been face-to-face with a demon before, so it’s hard not to be curious. Besides, Shouto doesn’t seem very devious or threatening. “What kind of game?”

“Hide and seek.” Shouto disappears in a swirl of red and blue and appears behind him to whisper in his ear, “Simple.” Katsuki shivers and whips around, but the demon has already rematerialized a few paces away with a teasing smile. “What do you say? I guarantee it’s more fun than whatever you were just doing.”

“What do I win?” Katsuki asks suspiciously. “And what’s in it for you?”

“What do you want if you win?” Shouto asks, reappearing beside a lamppost to lean against it nonchalantly. He’s starting to give Katsuki whiplash.

“I want you to fix my wing, since you ran into it,” he grumbles. “With no strings attached, too. I won’t get roped into one of your shitty deals.”

“Alright then… I accept.” Shouto appears next to him again, resting an arm on his shoulder. He leans impossibly close, lips brushing against his ear. “But if I win… I want you to fall for me.” He disappears before Katsuki can smack him, leaning against the lamppost again. “What do you say?”

“Ugh… Fine,” Bakugou growls, covering the ear Shouto spoke into defensively. “Geez, you’re so creepy… When does the game start?”

“Now, and it will go until sunrise.” The smirking demon disappears completely, leaving behind only faint whisper on the wind: “Catch me if you can.”

***

It’s been three hours, and it’s utterly impossible to find Shouto. Katsuki can’t fly with his injured wing, so he’s been running around like a useless human searching for him. Damn that demon and his stupid fucking teleportation powers. How the hell is he supposed to find him?

“I can’t do this anymore…” Katsuki mumbles tiredly, collapsing on a bench in an empty playground. “I’ll never find him at this rate.”

“Not even if I give you a hint?”

Katsuki jumps, whipping around to find Shouto perched on the bench right beside him. He lunged at him, but his hands phase through empty air. “What is this?” he growls irritably. “Where the fuck are you?”

“That would be giving you the game,” Shouto reminds him. “I can give you a hint, though.” He’s smirking, that bastard—and he’s leaning way too close for comfort. “Well? Do you want it?”

“You…” Bakugou turns his face away. “You’re too distracting with your handsome face and… your… everything!” He can barely compose himself enough to glance at him. “You demons really are vile… Give me the stupid hint.”

“Oh, so you think I’m handsome—“

“Shut up and give me the hint.”

Todoroki appears in front of him, so close that their noses are nearly touching. “Look for a light in the darkness, Angel, and I’ll be there.” He steps back with a casual wave, despite having just exploded Katsuki’s heart. “Good luck.”

God, what has he gotten himself into?

***

It’s nearing dawn, and Katsuki still hasn’t located him. His hint made no sense—and it still doesn’t, even as early-morning sunlight paints the earth in a haze of foggy gold. It doesn’t look like he’ll be winning their little game. What did Shouto say he has to do if he loses, again?

“I want you to fall for me.”

What does that even mean? Fall, as in, give up his wings, or… Gah, he can’t even think about the alternative without blushing. Demons really are awful. If he never sees that bastard again, it will still be too soon… But, of course, the game is still on for a little longer: he can’t give up just yet.

“Look for a light in the darkness,” is what Shouto said. Katsuki has thought himself in circles coming up with places to look, and still nothing. The last place he can think of is… nowhere. He’s really going to lose.

“Shit,” Katsuki grumbles, collapsing inside a bus stop. He doesn’t care about the cursing: he’s lost a game with a demon, so it doesn’t really matter anymore. “Fuck. This can’t possibly be good for me…”

“Are you sure about that?”

Katsuki jumps, whacking his forehead against the glass wall. “Ow… Fuck, would you stop doing that?!”

“Sorry: habit.” Shouto grins at him, crossing his legs nonchalantly. “The sun is up, so it looks like you’ve lost.”

“Yeah, looks like it,” Katsuki sighs, turning to glare at the glowing horizon. “So, what do I have to do?”

“Fall for me,” Shouto says, half-teasingly. “I did say that’s what I wanted, right?”

“But I don’t know how to—“ Katsuki starts to protest, nearly biting his tongue when Shouto takes him by the chin. “H…hey, back off.” His voice is trembling. Ugh, how humiliating… “Let go of me.”

“I won, remember?” Shouto reminds him, grinning against his lips. “So, fall for me.”

He kisses him in a way that’s both rough and gentle all at once; both desperate, and patient. His teeth are sharp, but they don’t necessarily hurt. What a feeling… Katsuki barely has enough time to remember to breathe through his nose before Shouto’s tongue is in his mouth, turning all his rational thoughts to dust.

This is bad, his conscience screams, but he tells it impolitely to fuck off. It’s not bad: it’s terrible—but damn, he really, really wants it.

“I want you to fall for me,” Shouto had whispered to him.

Katsuki might’ve lost to him well before their game was even over.

#im soft for this au #damn #bless u anon #todobaku #bakutodo #tdbk #3-prompts #answered asks #my writing #bnha #long post

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legobiwan · 5 years

Text

Whumptober #12 (don’t move)

TW: none

Fandom: Good Omens (Aziraphale, Crowley)

Notes: This is hot garbage, these characters are really difficult to write, and I struggled with this one. Moving on...

—–

Hell, Crowley had decided, could kindly fuck off.

The demon didn’t know whose sick idea of a joke this was. (A lie. He knew exactly which perverse bastards would play this game, and once the angel was safe, he was going to rip them apart, starting from their colons.)

Somewhere between Hell and Earth, the punchline was lost in translation. Or more likely, there wasn’t any punchline to begin with, just a long set up followed by pain.

Those were the only jokes Hastur enjoyed, anyway.

Aziraphale sat, prim and proper as always, straight-backed in Crowley’s own fucking throne, hands folded neatly over his thighs. He smiled at Crowley, absent, the kind of polite expression one adopts when greeting a teller at the bank or some other long-suffering civil servant.

Those assholes won’t know what hit them, the demon growled, gritting his teeth as he conjured a thousand different scenes in which he would make. someone. pay.

“Is everything okay, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked, azure eyes rounding, his lips pursed in that particular way. The angel patted his thighs, a tell-tale sign he was about to do something ill-conceived, and Crowley’s non-existent heart leapt into his throat.

“No!” He shouted, snarling. “Don’t move!”

Aziraphale stiffened, obeying the vicious reprimand. Above him, the sharp metal weapon swayed, dangerously, drunk on its promise of death.

Crowley cursed under his breath. He didn’t understand the why behind it all. Tie the angel up under a scimitar of Hell, so any movement would trigger the blade to fall directly on the soft, exposed flesh of Azirphale’s neck.

Yeah, yeah, Crowley got the whole Damocles connection, as thin as it was, but it wasn’t like he or the angel were trying to rule over anything. Crowley had spent the past several centuries avoiding that any kind of responsibility, and with the Apocalypse behind them, his desire to do…well, anything aside from yell at his plants and annoy Aziraphale was at an all-time low.

But Hell did like to send a message, even if the subtleties were lost in their vapid imaginations. And botched literary references aside, they had managed to pull a doozy, with the combination of a literal damned sword hanging above Aziraphale’s neck and a well-executed (Someone help him, he hated to admit Hell sometimes could get their act together) memory-wipe which had the angel regarding Crowley as he did the waitstaff at the Ritz.

Caring, polite, and distant.

It was as if the last four months (nevermind the last 6,000 years) had never happened.

“Young man, there is no need to use such a tone, I was merely trying to help.”

Of course you’re trying to help, thought Crowley, bitterly.

“It’s - ah - no, it’s fine. Just, I need you to stay there. And not move. At all.”

Crowley ran a hand through his hair, squinting at the elaborate death trap suspended from the ceiling. If he crossed the circle, the sword would drop (and Crowley would be demon toast with a side of marmalade). If Aziraphale moved, the sword would drop, and while the angel might avoid its cursed blade, the ancient sigils burned into the floor (his floor, thank you very much. It was a good thing demons didn’t believe in security deposits.) portended a Very Bad Outcome if they were to interact with the blade.

So what are we supposed to do? Sit here for eternity with Aziraphale’s memory wiped and me fretting like a nervous old lady?

Crowley paused. Actually, that was a well-thought punishment.

Damn Hell. Again.

“Well,” the angel sniffed, moving to adjust his waistcoat and then thinking better of it. “If you are going to insist it just sit here, you could be kind enough to offer some form of entertainment.”

Crowley’s eyes popped wide.

“Entertainment?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale continued, ignoring Crowley’s indignant tone. “A book or two would be most welcome, but lacking that perhaps a rousing debate on the comparative ethics of…”

Crowley snarled.

“Right. A story, then?”

“You - you want me to tell you a story?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Yes.

“No, I suppose not,” Crowley sighed, kicking at the floor. Aziraphale wasn’t going anywhere, and if the angel was staying put, so was Crowley. At least until he thought of a way out of this whole mess.

“Fine, fine, just let me - “ With a snap of his fingers, a chair materialized just outside the binding circle. Crowley turned it around, longs legs straddling the back, arms perched on top.

He pushed his sunglasses up his face.

“Once upon a time - “

“Really, my dear boy,” Aziraphale scolded.

“What?”

“It’s a bit hackneyed, the opening.”

“A bit - “ Crowley gaped. “A bit hackneyed? This isn’t literature class, ang - gah. You’re getting what you pay for.”

“So it seems,” the angel muttered, discreetly wiping his palms on his pants.

“Anyway. Once up a time,” Crowley grinned at Aziraphale’s pained expression. “There was an angel and a demon…”

Crowley didn’t now how long he sat there, recounting the events of the past six thousand years - civilizations rising and falling, cities built and destroyed, humanity, eager and curious, pushing at the boundaries of the known. (Of all his demonic acts, he could never conjure quite as much guilt for the whole apple business as he would for anything else. Look at what the humans had done, after all!)

“Do they fall in love?”

“And then there was that whole business with the paintballs and you, I mean the angel - “ Crowley froze. “I’m sorry, what?”

Aziraphale worried at his lip.

“The way you talk about them, this demon and angel. The whole story seems like some kind of Regency romance.”

Crowley’s heart threatened to leap from his mouth.

“I - uh…don’t want to spoil the ending. I mean, I don’t know the ending. There is no ending, ha! That’s the great thing, it’s a story that keeps on going.” Crowley found sudden interest in the patterns on the floor. “Hopefully keeps going and if I could just - “ The blade shimmered in the moonlight. Crowley had talked into the night, maybe into several nights.

The glint of metal played across Aziraphale’s features.

“What do you think?”

“I couldn’t say.”

Aziraphale fixed him with a disappointed pout.

“Ahhhhhhh, fine,” he groaned, jumping to his feet. “I think, I hope, I mean I’d for - “

The angel giggled.

“This is your story, no reason to be embarrassed. You could say they were abducted by an overgrown cephalopod in roller-skates in the end, and no one would be the wiser, no one could argue with you.” Aziraphale tilted his head. “I mean, I would, it would be poor story-telling, but it’s your tale, my dear. You call the shots, as it were.”

It’s *our* tale, you stupid angel. And I can’t be the one to write the ending, not if it’s like this.

Crowley threw his arms up, hissing. “Ssssure. They fall in love. Live happily ever after. Get a cottage somewhere, by the sea and become horribly domestic, it’s cavity-inducing really. The demon finds some semblance of peace and the angel acceptance and it’s all lovely with flowers and a bloody red bow tied on at the end.” Dashed hope was a bitter elixir at the best of times. Crowley made a face, moving his tongue around his mouth, trying to rid himself of the sour aftertaste of having chugged a two-liter bottle of regret in one sentence.

“Please don’t move,” the demon whispered as Azirapahle made an aborted attempt to stand.

It was better this way, perhaps. Even if he was able to get the angel free, Crowley didn’t know if his memory would be restored and that might not…be a bad thing. No expectations, no guilt for fraternizing with a demon - Aziraphale could be happy, go back to his books, and Crowley would come around and bother him, drink wine with him, and bury every last emotion he had ever had towards the angel somewhere on Alpha Centauri.

If, if…he could get the angel free.

But the only way to free the angel was the angel himself.

And for that to happen, Aziraphale needed to remember.

“Crowley?”

The demon spun around. Aziraphale’s eyes, which had been clouded, a thick fog over a blue sky, were clear, an impossible shade of azure.

He smiled.

Light years away, hydrogen atoms fell, sucked into a dark, gravitational vortex from which they would never escape. Light years after, a small ball of light shone through the dusty, hazy aftermath.

And on Earth, for the first time in centuries, a demon felt hope.

legobiwan does whumptober

#i have no idea what this is but here you go *runs away*#not my best work but i have shit to do sorry guys #whumptober #whumptober 12 #i am TIRED #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #good omens spam #also trying to not fall into a lot of the tropes with these two #i mean i love the tropes #but i want to avoid them as well #ANYWAY #writing #the eternal struggle #later tumblr

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welcometoyournewhell · 5 years

Text

Dress the Part

Kiribaku Week: Day 1/Suits

A/N: Based on (and tweaked) the BNHA movie. Also, contains a head cannon of Kirishima being insecure about his freckles. Cannonly, he has none but it was an idea I thought was cute.

“Bakugou come on!”

“No! It’s bad enough you got me in this stupid monkey suit!”

“K a t s u k i, man up! Your acting like a child!”

Kirishima attempted to pounce the other once more, ending in him face planting into the honeymoon bed they shared. Rubbing his face, he turned from the mattress with a glare. The older male crossed his arms with a huff. “And you say I’m acting like a child.” He “tsked” before moving the hand to examine the other’s face.

Finding no injuries, he sat beside his friend and started to put his socks on. “Come on man, it’s a formal event! In the time it’s taken just to get this far we could have already been there.” He thought for a moment before sitting up some. “Do you even wear one with your uniform?” Red met red as the blonde looked up. “No, of course not shitty hair.” The other puffed out his cheeks slightly before sitting forward to rest his chin on the other’s shoulder.

“Why do you say it like that? Is looking like a ‘bad boy’ that important to you?” Bakugou lowered his head a bit to move teasingly close to Kirishima’s lips. “It’s called the ‘Rebel’ look, Eijiro.” He moved away, letting the pouting face fall before it caught itself. “Fine, it looking like a rebel that important? This is a big event dude, just.... leave it loose? I’ll look rebellious if it’s not tied!”

The older turned his head from the mirror in irritation. “Eijiro, I’m not wearing the fucking tie.” Angry features quickly changed as the pout came onto the other’s face. Not just any pout, oh no. The puppy dog pout! He quickly looked away. “No, that’s my final answer Kiris-,” he froze as arms wrapped around him. A face nuzzled into his arm before puppy dog eyes peered up at him. “Suki,” he whined softly. Damn it.

“What’s the big deal man? It’s a piece of fabric.” Bakugou turned on his heel quickly, causing the other to jump back in surprise. “Exactly. It’s a piece of stupid, fucking fabric.” One hand supporting the other’s back as an arm came under Kiri’s butt. “So why does it matter if I fucking wear it, huh?” The other already knew where this was going. Oh no, oh no! “No, sthahahop,” He squealed as his legs started to kick around. “Suki, we’re going to be late, and your wearing the damn tie!”

A sharp gasp left the red head’s mouth as his boyfriend blatantly dropped him on the mattress. “The hell I am Eijiro!” Kirishima squealed as the other was quick to climb on top of him, the claw raised and ready to mess up his nice shirt. “Yes, you are!” In a bold and daring move, Eijiro flustered his fingers along the other’s neck.

There had to be a reason his boyfriend hated ties, right? Apart from feeling claustrophobic, or maybe a fear of being strangled, he could just not like things around his neck. But for the hardener’s own safety he really hopped it was that it tickled. “Gah! You little shit!” Bakugou pulled away in surprise before pinning both hands over head. “Ah! Katsuki!” The other squirmed, giggling in anticipation. “Lemme go!” The other growled as he moved down to the younger’s ear.

“So.... satisfied now? You got your fucking answer.” Eijiro continued to giggle and struggle in his boyfriend’s hold. “Your fucking wearing it,” he hissed. God damn, he just wouldn’t quit. “What, so you can get some sick little pleasure out of seeing me trying not to laugh?” Too busy focusing on the other’s flustered face, Bakugou wasn’t noting what action happening below him. In a quick motion, Kirishima had the upper hand, well some what.

The tempered cat used his reflexes to release the other’s wrists during the flip and dive into his underarms. They twitched as a threat that had the younger frozen. “We’re going to that stupid speech and I’m not wearing a tie. Do I make myself clear?” Bastard. Kirishima gritted his teeth. “Doesn’t have to be tied Suki, but your going to wear it.” He was surprised the other even let him get that out.

“Wrong answer sweet heart.” The pet name had a teasing tone as a scowl quickly grew into a smirk. Fingers suddenly created a reminder of their presence as Kirishima tried to roll off the older. “Yhahahahahaour sthahahaill whehehearing it ahahahass hahahaole!” However, the tie was out of reach. For Kirishima to grab it, he’d have to move his arm away from his ribs, which in turn would worsen the sensationg under his arm.

Bakugou noted this as he started to tease. “How so? Are you going to drape it over my neck? You can’t even reach it right now, can you?” The other started to break more as he fell into the other’s chest. “Stop it!” An evil chuckle came from the attacker as Katsuki dug in harder and faster. “Maybe I’ll make us miss that dumb, fucking speech all together. Wouldn’t that be nice? Just me giving all my attention to you?”

The red head pushed at him as he cackled more. “Katsuki,” Eijiro cried as he tired to shove once more. “Okhahahahay, sthahahaop! Nhahahaot thehehere, nahahaho more!” The jerk knew his weak spots like he knew his own. “See.... you say you give, but you don’t act like it.”

The red head squeaked softly as he squirmed about. "I submitted, cut it out!" He let out a soft squee as lips started to kiss over his neck and face. Dusted pink cheeks were dunked by a light layer of concealer to hide the soft freaked that laid beneath.

"If I drape it around my neck, will you stop being so dam annoying?" The younger giggled as lips found his cheeks, coating themselves in the toned cover up. "Not possible but I'll stop nagging you about it, and you can do my makeup." The blonde smirked at the propsition.

"Gonna regret that when I give you raccoon eyes and draw more attention to your face." Kirishima blushed as he covered the freckles. "Please, I thought you if all people would hate this because of Midoriya." The older stood before wiping his mouth clean and grabbing the damned tie.

"But these are on you. Whoever gets pissed that you have them can fucking deal with me." Trying to fix himself, the red head frowned. "Dude, you ruined my hair and makeup." He started to re gel the dyed, red locks before the other took over. They seemed a bit more spiked but.... probably because someone else was doing it.

But the makeup was fully wiped off, much to the shark babe's surprise. "Suki," he pouted. "I like you woh out it. I wear the tie, you don't wear make up. It'll be dark anyway, no one will tell." He hated how the other covered his appearance so much but didn't seem to grasp that's how Kirishima liked to see himself. That was him.

Bot if it got the older to wear the tie.... maybe one night? He shoved the stuff in his pocket anyway. The first comment about the dots, the compact was coming out.

As they headed out the door, the blonde pulled the other into a soft kiss before storming off. "Let's go shitty hair!" The other smiled a bit, for getting what he was doing. As he left the honey moon sweet, a red cased device lay face up on the comforter. Hope it wasn't important.

#kiribaku week #trash fanfic #head cannons #bnha #day 1 #tickles #tickle #ticklish #tickle fight #kirishima #bakugou #eijiro #katsuki

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voltronshorts · 6 years

Note

FIRST TIME DOING THE NASTY WITH KEITH AND HIS S/O

(Note: NSFW, explicit)

Put simply? Things had gotten out of hand.

It all kind of happened in slow motion, to be honest. It started on the training deck during a sparring match. It had escalated to a grappling match on the ground, Keith in your guard. You grabbed onto his lapel and, trapping him in your legs, threw him over you in a scissor sweep. You landed on his hips with an “Oof!”, moving to go into a simple choke when you felt his body go limp. Wondering why he was no longer resisting, you sat up and in that moment you knew.

The blown pupils, the red cheeks, the heavy breathing.

“Fuck that was hot,” Keith mumbles before grabbing your face and pulling you to him in a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

You feel him against you, straining against his pants, poking into the apex of your thighs. You wind your hips in a tight circle experimentally and he throws his head back, hissing. “Oh! Shit!”

“You like that?” you croon, kissing at his neck. He grips at your hips, nodding furiously. “Let’s get out of here.”

So now you were here, in his room, half-naked and delirious on the high of raw and primal lust. You and Keith become a tangled knot of clothes and limbs, trying to kiss and disrobe each other and the same time. You kiss so madly your teeth clack together. No words are exchanged–for, perhaps, no words are needed. Everything Keith needs say, he says with his body.

Sure, you two had been intimate before, but not like this. It was always either pleasure with a hand or pleasure with a mouth. But, tonight felt different. Tonight felt like the night you would careen unchartered territory into No Man’s Land. When your hands ghost over the sharp ridges of his hips, his hands catch your wrists. “W-Wait,” he stammers, looking away and red in the face. He seems so suddenly shy in front of you, almost like he’s a–

“Keith,” you say softly, rubbing comforting circles into his wrists. “Are you a virgin?”

His nods so subtly, you almost miss it. In that moment, your heart is full of affection for him.

You blanched. “S-So, you mean, you haven’t before–?”

“Of course not!” he snapped, still averting his gaze. Funny, now, since you’re hovering over his swollen arousal in nothing but your underwear. “When would I have ever?”

You stroke his cheek with a tender smile, heart overflowing. “We can stop,” you say gently, kissing his nose. “We can wait.”

He shakes his head furiously, looking up at you with fiery eyes. “No, I want to!” he exclaims. “I just… I just don’t want it to be bad for you.”

“With you? Impossible.” You push him back onto the bed with a kiss.

“W-Wait–! Shouldn’t I… p-please you first?”

You kiss him, silencing him. “I’ll take care of you this time. You can pay me back later,” you say with a wink. He flushes. You kiss a trail down his chest, the hard ridges of his abdomen, the sharp cuts of his hipbones, to the swollen bulge in his pants. You release his cock from the confines of his grey boxers, and marvel at him. He’s thicker than he is long, and he has a slight lean to the right. He’s beautiful. The head, a cute pink, is already weeping with iridescent precum. You lick a slow stripe up the underside and he groans, grabbing at your hair. You take him into your mouth and work him–up and down, up and down–using your free hand to massage what your mouth couldn’t take, as well as give his balls timely squeezes. It’s not long before he grabs at your hair with urgency, begging you off his cock. “S-Stop,” he breathes. “I-I’m so close, I’ll cum if you continue any more and I want to be… i-inside you…” You rise up to capture his lips in a kiss, and he moans at the taste of himself on your tongue.

You lock eyes with him, and in a gentle voice, ask, “Are you ready? If you want to stop now, we can. You call the shots.”

“G-Go on. Please. I want you. I-I want to feel you,” Keith gasps, capturing you in one more heated kiss. You feel his weight shift as he moves to get on top but you stop him with a hand to his collarbones. “Wh–? Y/N!”

“I told you, Keith,” you say fondly. “I’ll take care of you this time. You sit back and enjoy the show.” You wink, and he bites his lip and looks away, the tips of his ears a hot red.

You rise to sitting height and pull your underwear aside to reveal your glistening sex, ready for him. Keith looks at you with wonder and love and so much want–you don’t think anyone had ever looked at you like that before. He drank in the sight of you like a man dying of thirst. “Fuck. You’re so fucking beautiful. How the hell did I get so damn lucky.”

The sight of him is equally as appealing: bare and sprawled out on the bed, eager and waiting, black hair tousled against the pillow, skin puckering and pink from your ministrations, violet eyes drowned in an inky blackness, and milky alabaster skin coated in a sheen of sweat. Simply, an angel lost in the fires of Hell.

You lower yourself onto his waiting cock, your sex kissing the head. He hisses, gripping so hard into your hips his nails leave little crescent moons. “G-Gah! Fucking shit!” Keith chokes out upon feeling you slide down onto his cock. You relish in the feeling of the stretch, and sink down on him until you’re fully seated against his hips. Keith’s breaths are shallow and quick beneath you, his fingers flying over your body, trying to find some sort of purchase. “O-Oh my fucking God, I never thought it-it would feel t-this g-good–!”

You bounce on him up and down, and he pistons his narrow hips to match your strokes. He moves in and out of you with an ease uncharacteristic of a virgin–a natural. The air fills with the obscene sounds of wet squelching, the slap of sweaty skin on skin, and the cacophony of his sounds of pleasure mingled with yours. There is no room for misinterpretation; you two were making love.

“O-Oh, I’m c-close! I’m–fuck!” Keith rasps, head thrashing wildly against the pillow like a man possessed. Little tears line his lashes, his eyes squeezed shut.

“M-Me too, baby,” you breathe, working him faster and with renewed vigour. Keith struggles to keep his eyes open, and drinks in the sight of you riding his cock, willing it to sear into his mind’s permanent eye.

“I want to see you when I–Ah shit!” he chokes, his eyes rolling back into his head as his back arching off the bed gracefully. The feeling of him spraying ropes of cum into you tips you over the edge, as well, clenching around him and milking him for all his worth. His body and yours convulse in tandem, vibrating together in a song of pleasure. Flash fire rakes up and down your limbs in a spontaneous combustion: blinding, searing, hot and heavy. His moans are long and guttural; you could listen to them forever.

His body goes limp and his eyes travel slowly up your body again to meet your gaze. He’s still inside you. He extends his hands and you place your face against them and he pulls you to him, kissing you–slow and deep and intimate and loving. When you pull away, he has stars in his eyes. His voice is soft and hoarse, still. His words are mumbled against your lips. “Hey. Thanks.”

#voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #voltron x reader #x reader #keith x reader #keith kogane #keith kogane x reader #keith voltron x reader

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reverseblackholeofwords · 6 years

Text

Day 13.

One day away from two full weeks.

The unluckiest of days.

The last day Anti wanted to get out of his pillow fort, but he rolled over, back and muscles stiff, and dragged himself to the entrance. Flopping himself onto the floor, he twitched in small bits, byte by byte exploring his body and trying to ease into the sore muscles and aching body that had been so savagely abused lately. Inch by inch, his eyes climbed upwards, blinking up at a yellow-shirted droid. A familiar hole of dread punched its way through his gut, and Anti sighed, climbing upwards and onto his haunches, kicking his legs out and avoiding the Google’s gaze.

“I-it’s Daay 13,” Oliver stammered, and Anti nodded. “Google Blue h-as been mi-issing for - it’s b-been 13 days!”

“Not yet, Ollie,” Anti sighed, forcing himself to his feet and staggering slightly as he core locked up against his wishes. “He’s been gone for 12 days… today is the 13th day since then.”

“I KN-OOW THAT!!” the droid cried suddenly, and Anti flinched, half a glitch ripping through him as he recoiled, the spasm nearly knocking him off his feet. “I-I KNOW T-THAT! I KNOW THA-AT! I KNO-OW THAT-T!!”

“Okeh, Google,” Anti said shortly, head still bowed and arm gripped loosely around his middle. Oliver froze and snapped straight, his eyes copying the “G” on his chest as they both flashed yellow. Digging into his scalp past a yawn, Anti knocked his hand against his temple to rattle a question up in his sleepy mind. “How - uh, how many … emperor penguins are there in the world?”

“According to a study performed by National Geographic in 2017, there are approximately 95,000 emperor penguins in the world right now.”

“Cool, cool,” the glitch muttered as he shuffled his way across the room to where Green was on his recharging bed. “Uh, okeh Google…”

Oliver chirped from behind him again, Anti addressing him as he surveyed Green with his eyes.

“Who started National Geographic?”

As Oliver launched into the explanation, Anti took a deep breath and glitched into Green’s systems, searching and scrubbing around in case any more viruses had sprung up over night. Of course, there was nothing, and he tumbled out of the droid and into a nearby chest with a sharp gasp.

“State your directive!” Google Red hissed, and Anti, rubbing his head and bumping back into Green, frowned up at him.

“I’m searching for any more viruses,” he spat, coughing at the blood that sputtered into his neck. “Damn…” One hand cupped the cut as he stumbled to the counter, grappling clumsily for the bandages Doc had given him. “Red, come help me,” he turned to the droid, who frowned, but moved towards him none the less. As Red took the bandages, Anti holding them in place as they wrapped them around his neck, he kept one ear cocked for the end of Oliver’s rant. “We’ve got to set up a new - uh, perimeter to search for Blue. I’ve already hit - hit downtown, and along the highway for, what, 15 miles?”

“Yes,” Red nodded. “As well as the quarry and old factory district 31 miles out of town on the north-northeast side. That was where you got this,” he picked up Anti’s arm to reveal the concrete burn on it.

“It’s fine,” grumbled the glitch, handing Red the bandages over his shoulder. “But we have to keep looking. O-okeh, Google, who was Alexandeh Graham Bell?”

“Are you - do - you require med-medical attention?” Red stammered, passing the wrap to Anti who passed it back over his other shoulder.

“’M fine,” Anti muttered, a half-glitch ripping through him and hurtling him onto the table with a loud cry. Red, stepping back, dropped his hands to his sides.

“O-okeh, Red, uh-” he pushed from the table, but Red stepped before him, cornering him.

“You are not fine,” he snarled, the glitch’s eyes flashing black and meeting his glare.

“’M fine,” he hissed, holding the bandage against this neck and coughing up some more specks of blood.

“Day 13!” Oliver suddenly shrieked, and Anti swore loudly, crossing to the other -

“Gah! Red-!” he chocked, spinning around and yanking on the bandage Red had snagged. The droid’s eyes flashed, and he yanked backwards, Anti stumbled to him.

“Let go of me!” Anti spat, gripping the leash in one fist, the other gripping his neck. “I need to go calm Ollie back down-!”

“Google Yellow has been attacked by a virus,” Red said, a mechanical edge in his voice. It gave Anti pause, feeling himself bristle, and he slowly straightened.

“Yeah, I know that, bro, which is why I gotta - gaah! Let go of me!”

“Primary objective is to protect the other Google IRL units,” growled the droid, yanking Anti closer.

“R-Red?” he whimpered, standing only inches away.

Suddenly, Red screamed, shoved Anti away from him, and collapsed, grabbing his head.

“Red!” Anti cried, stumbling to his side and shaking the droid’s shoulder. “Fight it, Red! Damnit, you’re the only one left! Fight it!”

“Day 13!”

“Not now, Ollie!”

“GET OUT O-OF ME!” Red shrieked, glitches spreading over his skin, which was rapidly growing hot as his systems kicked into overdrive to combat the infection.

“Hang on, Red,” Anti instructed, sucking in a breath and trying to glitch into his brother’s systems, but something like a blast of heat and razor blades hit him, propelling him out of the android’s system and across the room. “Damn-!” he cried, rolling to a stop and dragging himself onto his stomach as pain radiated through him.

Heavy footsteps, thundering and rhythmic, approached him, and Anti pulled himself to his hands and knees with a few more swears.

“Okeh Google! Okeh Google!” he repeated, hearing Oliver from the far corner of the room buzz in response. Red, however, continued to stomp towards him. “NO! NOT YOU, OLLIE!” Glitching, Anti stumbled to his feet behind Red, and spun around. Ollie continued to stare at him blankly, waiting for a command, and Green remained unresponsive in his charging dock. The other Egos had made plans in case Red was also taken by the virus, but he - he couldn’t just let them - Red was still his brother! He had to protect him from - he was -

Locking his arms around his brother when Red swung for him, Anti ground his teeth together and glitched them both to the roof, landing in a heap that Red happily kicked over.

“Ow! Dude!” Anti hissed, trying to stand as Red kicked him again. “Sta-stap, Red! It’s me - gah! It’s me, dude! It’s An- ah! Anti!”

Unable to stop the onslaught, Anti glitched back for the entrance to the roof, collapsing against it with another pained cry. He had been doing that too much, lately, and he snarled, only flopping himself further to the ground when he tried to wrestle back control of his spasming muscles. Suddenly, Red was on top of him again, pinning the glitch against the wall by his throat and driving his fists into his sides and middle repeatedly.

When it finally stopped once something ripped Red off him, Anti slid to the roof. Everything trembled and little glitches broke out all over his skin, the glitch curling into a tight ball and whimpering at the waves of pain that kicked his insides around.

“Anti?” a soft voice greeted, and Anti glitched to his feet in fright, immediately sinking to his knees again and coughing up the blood that gurgling into his throat. “Anti,” the voice repeated, a few feet away now, but just as soft. His vision swam, but Anti raised his eyes with a hiss, seeing a familiar dull coat drift in and out of his surroundings. Something pink stood over the red stain that was Red’s shirt, and the roof dug into his elbows as the glitch collapsed.

“Hosty,” he breathed, the blind man hurrying to his side and patting Anti’s wild, messy hair when he knelt at his side. “Easy, Anti, I’ll take you to Edward-”

“Red-?”

“Wilford will take him to the panic room,” muttered the Host, head inclining slightly in the pink ego’s direction.

“Don’t - ‘urt 'em,” Anti breathed, teeth clenching tight as another wave of pain passed over him.

“Now why would I do something silly like that, you rapscallion?” Wilford wiggled, dropping his gun and putting his hands on his hips. Anti peaked one eye open, and scraped together a glare in the glittery man’s direction. “No hurting him,” Wilford nodded, adjusting the gun in his hands again. “Got it.”

~ ~ ~

When Anti dragged himself back towards the pillow fort, Doc at his elbow, he nearly collapsed inside, half asleep by the time his dad caught up. Doc tried to make him comfortable with the flat pillows and wrinkled blankets, told him something about taking it easy, maybe something about pizza, and left. As Anti finally drifted asleep, he heard a voice, quiet and mechanical, pace back and forth across the otherwise dead silent room.

“Day 13,” Oliver muttered. “Day 13… Day 13… Day 13…”

Submitted by: @rubbersoles19

You’re too good at thiiiiss!!

#antisepticeye #google oliver #google red #google green #the host #wilford warfstache #dr. iplier #googleplier #google gets an upgrade #ggau part 2.5 #submission

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wisepuma23 · 6 years

Text

Flowers For A Ghost - Chapter 10

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Logan panted as he looked around the sprawling city. He pulled Roman along behind him as they looked frantically for a hiding place from Lamia, crashing into different merchants' shops and tents through the cramped streets. Roman shouted apologies behind him as Logan searched for a way out. He had to.

They both flinched at the terrified screams of fairies behind them as Lamia stomped behind them.

"We have to hide!" Roman shouted next to him.

"I know! Just give me a minute to think!"

"There isn't much time for thinking, pocket watch!"

Logan finally saw a dark alley with stairs that led up to the roof. Maybe they could run over rooftops and escape that way? Yes!

Logan pulled Roman behind him into the dark alley that smelled strongly of curdled milk and rotting meat. He rushed upwards toward the roof with Roman's loud clanking on the metallic steps behind him.

It was then that Logan realized they were truly in deep shit.

"Shit. Shit, shit — we are so screwed." Logan moaned with his head in his hands. The rooftops weren't connected to the others. It was impossible to escape.

Roman rushed forward to the edge and squinted at the yawning distance of the closest rooftop. Logan grabbed Roman's shirt. Don’t even think about it, Roman.

Logan whipped around as he heard distant footsteps coming from the stairwell. Roman turned around, his pale face gaunt in the soft oranges of the sky turning from cloudy grey. The sun was arriving soon. It’ll be their first sunrise. Logan wished with all of his heart it could arrive faster.

A tuft of purple hair peeked over the wall. No, it couldn’t be. Logan pushed past Roman as his feet already ran, knowing who it was, hoping against hope. Yes it was! He heard a grunt as Virgil pushed himself up the last few steps of the stairwell. Dad!

“Roman? Logan?” Virgil said surprised, his brown eyes wide as he peeked over the wall, “Oh thank god, you’re okay!”

Logan was swept up into his father’s arms. Tears welled up in his eyes as Papa’s arms surrounded him. Forehead kissed and another tight hug was all Logan could handle before his tears slipped out.

“Papa!” Logan cried as he wrapped his arms around his neck. “I’m sorry! I tried to stay strong for Roman like you told me to. And I did get to punch some ‘smarmy assholes’. I told Roman to stay where we were and then there was talking animals! Weird beast things! Nothing makes sense here. I want to go home.”

Virgil set Logan down and kneeled down to his level.

“Honestly? You did great, kiddo.” He thumbed over to where Patton was kissing the living bejesus out of Roman despite his embarrassed squeals. He looks fine to me. You took care of Roman pretty well. He’s not easy to look after. I should know! I thought he’d be the death of me.”

Virgil ruffled his hair. “What’s on your mind?”

“Was what Mom said true?” Logan said leaning into Virgil’s side. “That we’re demons?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Man, high school is gonna suck. ”

His father shook with laughter next to him. “Dude, you’re going to meet kids way more demonic than you or Roman will ever be. You got this, alright? And you need to join some clubs! Like I don’t know, chess. Meet friends, don’t play D&D in the basement like I did, even if it’s really fun.” The two of them turned to look at the other half of their family with soft smiles.

Patton swung Roman around. “Who do I love?”

“Me,” Roman said as he tried to squirm out of his arms.

“Come on, I can’t hear you!”

“Daaaaadddd!” Roman groaned, “I’m not five anymore! Put me down!!! Gah, Dad, stop!!!”

Patton smirked as he hauled Roman up higher. “I can’t hear you!”

“Me!!!” Roman shouted, a smile making a way onto his face despite his valiant efforts. Peals of laughter echoed in the chilled air. Patton set Roman down with a twirl, dizzy, as Roman stumbled against his dad’s side. Patton bops Roman’s nose and smiles as he pulled his finger away from Roman’s instinctual chop.

Suddenly, a hand clamped down on Logan’s neck and screamed as he was pulled back. His father fell down to the pavement with a grunt. He clawed at the hand around his neck, but it was like made of steel. He twisted his head around to take a look. His face paled.

It was Lamia.

Her eyes were wild and her sharp teeth glistened in the first rays of the sunrise.

Lamia thrusted Logan higher until his legs kicked at empty air.

“Stay back or I break him like a goddamn twig.”

Patton held his hands out. “Okay, okay.”

“Let him go!” Virgil shouted, he stood up, purple flames flared to life along his arms. Lamia cocked her head at the action. She held Logan up higher as her fingers creaked around his soft throat. He had to do something.

Patton hugged him from behind, yanking him back, Virgil’s wrath wavered as he heard Patton’s voice racked with desperation. He could throw a fireball but the risk was too great. Logan was going to get hurt no matter what he did.

“Fine. Stop, stop!” Virgil shouted, his voice shaky with withheld tears.

Lamia smirked. “Start walking, slowly, we’re trading places.”

Virgil glared as he stood by Patton and Roman. Roman’s heart was loud in his ears. His brother was in danger! This entire time, Logan has saved him over and over again. What kind of brother was he that didn’t save him too? A horrid one!

Virgil put a hand on his shoulder to push him into walking. Lamia slowly circled around until they stood by the staircase to the alley down. The mercenary’s messy ponytail framed by the rising sun made her look like a beast in the shadows cast on her face. Logan twisted in her grip, but to no avail.

He had to save him!

“Roman!” Patton screamed, as Roman ran headfirst into her in a blur. “No!”

His head snapped back from her fist. Ow! Her free hand clamped down on his neck while he was down. No. No, no; his legs kicked out into empty air as fingers clamped tightly around his neck.

“Two of a set,” Lamia laughed at the two boys struggling uselessly in her grip. “Isn’t that beautiful?”

“Logan!” Roman cried, reaching out to find his brother, fingers outstretched to their limits. Lamia’s fingers tightened and his hand fell away. Roman gasped as stars danced in front of him. His lungs burned as he drew in short gulps. He can’t die here. Please not here. Fear threatened to swallow him.

“Roman!” Logan shouted, then glared at Lamia as he rasped out a defiant promise through his purpling throat. “Don’t...hurt...him…”

No. He wasn’t going to be a coward anymore!

“I’m not afraid of you anymore!” Roman said, tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m not scared. I have my brother here with me! I’m Roman–” He clawed at her fingers until he felt a little give and he gulped in the extra air, then he looked at his dads and his brother as he said finally– “and I’m brave.”

“I know you are, honey,” Patton said gently, then his eyes hardened as he looked up at Lamia. “What do you want?”

“A way out of here.” Lamia glanced behind her and then stepped back until Roman could heard the distant clamor of the fae marketplace far below; it was only a short jump away. “These boys are my ticket out of Alice Wonderland,” she continued, “and you aren’t stopping me.”

“I can open a portal for you right now and—” Virgil’s hair floated up with a crackle of magic.

“And who the fuck are you?” Lamia sneered. “You’re probably one of them . So can it, you fairy.”

Virgil’s hair didn’t relax; instead it became brighter with its purple glow. “Get away from our sons. I won’t ask again, GI Jane. Put them down.”

Lamia twitched as more hair fell in front of her face. Patton stepped forward, face dark as he eyed the two of them, already assessing on how to take her down. Lamia let out a snarl and Patton reluctantly backed off. Lamia’s breaths were loud in the muffled silence of a sunrise. Her fingers started to slide on Roman’s throat from his sweat. Or hers. It was hard to tell. Wait. He had an idea.

“Make your portals,” Lamia snapped.

“We found out we were demons only like yester—”

“Now!”

Logan snapped his mouth shut. Roman met his brother’s eyes as he twisted to look at him. Dark blue eyes so familiar, yet so alien to see them filled with fear. His brother always seemed to figure something out. Whether it was to shout an argument, bury a broken vase, or tell him that his drawings were good. That he didn’t need to hide them. Roman remembered his dream, the new one, of working together as brothers in the real world. A fashion line so popular that even David Bowie lauded their creativity and pizazz.

If Logan couldn’t do something, then Roman had to. His neck was slick with sweat, thanks to his overactive fear response, even if it made deodorant expensive. He wiggled in Lamia’s meaty fingers. He was almost there. Just another wiggle!

“Do it!” Lamia barked as she noticed Logan’s now faint blue glow, but none from Roman, “Make a damn portal or I’ll break your brother’s fucking neck.”

Logan’s squeak was cut off by a creak of her fingers. Roman felt a hot white flash up his body. Images of his brother’s broken body ran through his imagination. His fathers dead and dying on the roof. He ignored his little voice of logic that sounded eerily like his own brother; that pointed out ghosts can’t die. Rivers of blood and bleached bones and purple bruises fueled the fire in his soul. The deep yawning dark of nonexistence whispered from his nightmares. The flames roared over the pitiful cries of his fear. No.

“No, ” Roman snarled.

“What did you just say?”

Her fingers slid off his neck and Roman crumpled onto the floor. It worked! He ignored the loud shouts from his dads to run. He was sick of running. The sun peeked through the grey clouds of morning and he felt his smile grow into a sharp one as he felt the sun’s gentle touch on his cheeks. He was going to fight!

“I’m not afraid anymore!” Roman shouted, he brought his shaking fists up, just like his brother taught him. “You should be afraid of me. ”

Silence echoed through the rooftop. Roman grinned at Lamia’s stunned look. Logan pushed through his shock and started to struggle again. Patton called gently out to him, please get back, he shook his head. Roman turned around and flashed a cocky grin and wink at his fathers. Virgil’s face was pale, then slipped into a nervous smile. Patton stepped forward, about to grab Roman away despite his newfound bravery.

He’s got this. The foul villain was thrown off her rhythm; street smarts! She was cornered with nowhere to go. Dad and Papa was right here with him. He bet Logan even had a plan! There was no way he was going to lose!

Lamia laughed. Low and gleeful. Her brown eyes hollow as if all sanity has left the building. Roman stepped back, his bravado gone like mist. What was seriously her problem?! His throat swallowed. Maybe this wasn’t an easy villain. Tch, no matter, final boss battles never were! His button smashes in Mortal Kombat attested to that!

His eyes glanced to Logan, his struggling and kicking has only worsened. He ignored his brother’s vehement hisses to run, run you idiot, please. Logan’s portal was slowly coming into being, dark blue with swirling stars like magical sequins. His hair floating up with ethereal magic echoing the faint drums of Hell.

Gritting his teeth and tensing his knuckles, Roman ran headon at Lamia. Lamia threw a punch, Roman smirked as he dodged it. He grabbed her forearm and bit down hard into the iron muscles underneath. She screamed. Logan gasped as he was thrusted higher into the sky like he was a sought after TV remote. Roman held on tight as Lamia slammed him against the brick wall.

“Let,” slam, “my” punch, “brother”, his skull cracked, “go!!” he screamed. Blood ran down into his eyes. The taste of iron filled his mouth. Eugh, he hoped he didn’t catch crazy. Lamia snarled as Roman kept hitting her. Knuckles cracked and bleed open. His muscles screamed for relief. His teeth clamped down on her fingers. More blood spurted in his mouth. At this, she howled, and finally snapped.

Lamia’s hand shot out and yanked on Roman’s shirt. He clawed on Lamia’s face, racking down stark red lines. Lamia grinned as she stared at Roman as she held him up by the nape of his neck like a troublesome cat. He might be short, but he was five feet and six inches full of rage! He kicked at her chest hard enough until he felt things crack under his boots.

Lamia didn’t even wince. Instead she grinned wider.

“The thing about portals,” Lamia crooned as she held him closer, brown eyes filing his vision, “is that I just need one.”

Roman’s eyes widened. No, wait, this wasn’t supposed to happen! Roman snarled as he charged forward to bite her entire face off. Better to die nobly than live a coward.

Lamia thrusted him off the roof.

The roar of the wind and Patton’s guttural scream followed his fall. His bloody fingers clawing at nothing. Logan! He was leaving Logan behind! Dad! Anyone! Save me! The blue sky above him like a blanket tucking him in for the long night of everlasting sleep. He closed his eyes with a sigh, at least he was good for something after all. Then everything slammed to a sudden screeching halt.

Logan screamed, “Roman!”

But there was no answer — only the faint confused clamor of the merchants below, and the whistle of the wind. Sobs wrenched through him and he wanted to puke. Tears blurred his vision as all feeling left his body. The fingers around his throat, the burn of his lungs; all of it faded away.

His soul had just been cleaved apart.

“Roman!”

“Shut up, little brat!” Lamia spat. Sobs echoed from his crumpled fathers. Virgil pulled Patton against his chest as his shoulders shook with the loss of his son.

The crackle of the portal pulled at Logan’s soul. Magic deep from within stopped with a sickening lurch.

With a pop, the portal was gone. He was never going to let this murderer go home.

“No!” Lamia shouted as she threw Logan to the ground. “You piece of—”

A boot swung toward his face. His head snapped back onto the pavement. Stars burst in his eyes. Glass shattered distantly. His frames sat crushed in front of him, and blood dripped down his gums. His shoulders shook as he spat out a glob of blood onto the rooftop. His cheek throbbed and spurted with blood from the abuse. Tears over his burgeoning bruises made him whimper as he curled into a fetal position. His so-called bravery that Rom...his brother lauded him for, it was gone, gone with him.

There was no point.

He had no brother to be brave for.

To fight for.

No glasses, no brother, and no bravery. He was alone.

Lamia stomped closer. Virgil’s crackling magic filled the air but it was too late. Always too late. It was up to him. Lamia was too close to aim properly without hurting Logan too. By her grin, she knew it. It was all up to him, for the first time, Logan had to fight for himself.

I don’t know how, he thought to himself. Magic rolled inside of him like a tidal wave, foreign and acquired from this plane.

A manicured claw reached out to him, and the shadow of her fingers eclipsed the rising sun. His eyes wide open, fighting his instinctual desire to shut them.

It was then, he wondered if Roman died with his eyes open.

“Come on, nerd!” Roman shouted over the roar of the parade. “We’re going to miss it!”

Logan squeezed past the warm bodies to hold onto his brother’s hand tightly, not wanting to lose him. He turned around to see his fathers lounging on a picnic blanket on a hill, above the eager crowds, Patton giggling as Virgil put sunscreen on him. Blech.

Roman yanked on his arm harder and with a yelp they finally pushed past the insurmountable wall of adults and kids alike.

It was Buzz Lightyear!

All thought stuttered to a stop as he saw the man wave in the shimmering sunlight of hot noon. It’s him! The hero pushed a few buttons on his arm and with a swoop, his wings popped open. Just like his toy at home! Whoa… A finger poked him in the cheek. Logan startled from his stupor and turned to glare at Roman. The parade float puttered its way down the street. The moment gone.

“Were you starstruck?” Roman smirked.

“I didn’t know they had Buzz Lightyear this year! I know it’s been out for two years but did you know, Roman?” Logan exclaimed, “He looked so cool! Wow. I want to be like him.”

“A toy?”

“No!” Logan scowled, “An astronaut!!” His smile faded. “But well… I can’t be an astronaut. Even if it’s really cool.”

The roars of the crowd faded as he remembered Roman’s head tilt. His dark brown eyes that weren’t Patton’s pale azure or Logan’s cerulean. The sweat on his brother’s brow and those dorky cowboy swim trunks he wore that summer July. Only a few months before Virgil died that fall. Before their entire family changed.

“Why not? I bet you’d be a really cool astronaut. Even better than Buzz!”

“Cause you won’t be there,” Logan admitted with a sigh,.“I don’t want to leave without you.”

Roman ruffled his hair and pulled into a headlock, Logan whined. “Noooo!! Roman stop! Gack! I take it back, I’m going to space and leaving you behind. Aaaah, not the ear!”

Roman let him go with a beam, “Don’t worry about me! I’m a cowboy, someone has to take care of Earth while you’re gone, Lo.”

“I...suppose you’re right.”

He blinked. Something soft rippled beneath his fingers. It convulsed and shuddered as blood burst beneath his black claws. It was a throat. Something cracked to the left of him. His eyes shot to the sound quicker than he processed it.

A purpled arm sat lifeless on the movement, twisted and gorged until it was unrecognizable. Teeth marks bright like pink flowers among a lavender field. His eyes zeroed on the source of the crack; it was a manicured fingernail torn away from the nail bed, the last to join its brethren on the gravel.

No.

He didn’t—

“ ‘Course I am!” Roman laughed, “Do you think we can convince Dad to let us stay to see the fireworks?”

He shut his eyes. Drew in a shaky breath through his nose. He steeled himself to look. Eyes bulged out of her skull, her mouth dropped open in a silent scream, he could see all the way back to her molars. Her chest did another convulsion underneath him. Logan licked his lips and warm blood that wasn’t his own buzzed his senses instead of disgust. The iron metallic taste became heady as caramel toast with a lather of honey. It was too much sugar to be healthy. His tongue bumped against his teeth, sharpened to a point; almost like a dog’s but worse. Blood, more blood, he needed more.

More.

“Logan?” Patton whispered.

Dad, dad, echoed in his mind. Spit dribbled out of the corner of the creature’s mouth. Disgusting.

Its throat croaked as he dug his claws deeper. Why didn’t it die already? Die, die — the word echoed in his mind. Empty of everything but burning hatred. And memories that hurt too much to remember.

“We can’t tell Dad!” Roman shouted as they stood over a broken vase. Dad was late again from his shift. Logan reached down to pick up the pieces. Roman stopped him with a shake of his head. “Get some gloves, nerd. Pick this up and throw it in the trash, out of sight out of mind, right? Dad would get mad if he saw it.”

“Logan, honey?” Patton repeated again, his voice gentle behind him. Dad. His stomach dropped. Trouble, he doesn't want trouble; he's a grade A student. It would be on his record. The principal would call Dad and then he'll hear the disappointed lecture on the way home. Home? Where was that? Logan snarled at the encroaching memories.

"It's just me, Lo lo," Patton soothed, "It's okay. Let her go. It's over. My starlight, please, listen to me. I'm right here." His voice wavered. "Can you hear me from where you are? I know it's dark and scary but your Dad is always right here."

His newly attuned ears heard the soft drip of tears splashing against the pavement.

"Come home. This isn't you, Logan. Wake up. I'm here. How are you feeling? Talk to me."

"More," Logan rasped. "No. I don't want to get into trouble. I did something bad. I'm sorry."

He heard a sniffle. "It's okay. Daddy will be with you even if you do something bad, okay?"

"It was Roman's idea, we buried your favorite vase in the rose bushes," Logan swallowed as more tears splashed down. "I'm sorry. Roman lied and I should've been a better role model. Then he wouldn't lie."

"K-kiddo–" Patton's voice was wet– "it's okay. I forgive you. Both you and Ro-ro-Roman."

Logan stood up, his claws tight around the paling throat. He ignored the cries to step back. His hackles rose he felt a dark presence barrel right at his exposed back. His mind went blank for a moment as hot rage filled his vision. How dare—

His thought ended.

The whistle of the wind set his aching soul back into his body.

Logan saw terrified eyes pleading him for mercy. Lamia’s legs dangled over the edge, it’s arms and hands too broken to even grapple for escape, like his brother did. For a moment, he turned his eyes to the rest of the sunrise and took in the ravaged land. Shops overturned and fires spiraling into the air. He took a breath. Savoring the unadulterated fear of the mortal before him.

He threw the broken vase into the rose bushes below.

Logan crouched down on the wall and grinned as he heard the satisfying shatter. Music, music to his ears, his ears. The creature twitched, gasped, and then went still. The vase was so exceedingly fragile that it was a wonder that Roman hadn't broken it before now. Logan stepped off the ledge and turned around. Away from his misdeed.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Virgil stared up at him from the opposite wall. His form flickered weakly. Patton sat next to him, pressing his hands to a wound on his arm, fussing over him. Dad doesn't know, so he wasn't in trouble, he was a grade A student.

"I want to go home. Please. I don’t feel so good. Dad...” Logan swayed and dropped to his knees. His head spun and sick threatened to come up. He focused on his broken glasses in front of him, they reflected black eyes squinting down at it; is that him? His eyes were blue, right?

He didn’t know anything anymore.

“Logan!” his fathers cried out in unison. They ran forward to hug him. Virgil and Patton squeezed him until he felt his heart pop in his chest. A hand ran through his floating hair and brushed gently against his horns. His head was nudged forward into an old jacket that’s been in the wash so many times the colors washed out. His breath shuddered into the warm chest and the thumping of the heartbeat underneath was a soothing drum. Black claws dug into the soft fabric like a lifeline.

“I’m going to rub your back now, okay? But try to remember what you learned,” Virgil said as he rubbed his back slowly in circles. “Breathe in for four seconds–” Logan sucked in air hungrily– “and hold your breath for seven seconds. You’re doing great. Now breathe out for eight seconds.”

After a few minutes, his horns disappeared back into his skull, his claws faded away, and like a floodgate flung open, thoughts rushed back into his head. Tears sprang anew from his eyes as he clutched Patton and sobbed. He didn’t– why did he– oh god. What have I?

All of his fear, hurt, and anger finally released, not through violence, but tears so thick he couldn’t see. Patton rocked his son, his only son, in his lap.

He held on tight to the small body in his arms despite how much it shook like a leaf in the wind. Virgil sang gently to him an old lullaby, but it only made him cry even harder until Patton was sure he was going to puke.

Patton leant down and kissed his brow. “You can rest now, kiddo. You did great, I am so proud of you.” He wiped away the boy’s tears as he glanced at Virgil.

“...Heaven is a lovely place to be, Roman will love it there. He can play everyday and every night. He’s happier now.”

Logan wiped away snot on the collar of his shirt with a sniffle. “He’d be happier alive.”

Patton sighed as he gave a wobbly smile that was too sad to be real. “I know. Your brother will miss you very much. And he loves you to the moon and back.”

Sunlight twinkled over the rooftop and the torn landscape of the nether world. The two bodies lied at the center of the market square shimmered with the slick of blood in the early sun. Merchants chattered about the new addition. It was strange, stupendous, cultural! Who left such a bold landscaping choice? The sun rose higher in the sky as the merchants lost interest and stepped over the bodies with no regard. Soon, the sun lost sight of them in the crowds of the fae marketplace.

The world spun on quite happily with one less demon in the world.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic

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